Undone
by bundysbaby
Summary: A challenge was posted - how would everything be changed if some lived -or died? I explored that with this story of how Dan's life might have been changed had his mother lived.
1. Chapter 1

Bill Regan picked up the phone in his office. The contraption's noisy ring bothered Jupiter, but then everything bothered Jupe. "Stable," he answered, irritation evident in his voice.

"Liam?" a trembling, breathy voice traversed the wires and the years, bringing him right back to St. Cecelia's Orphanage. "Liam, it's Mary Pat. I'm in trouble."

"Where are you?" he demanded, his voice tight.

"Brooklyn. There's a little coffee shop on the corner of Kings Highway and Avenue N. Caffeinated Bliss. Can you meet me there?"

"When?"

"As soon… as soon as you can, Liam."

Regan looked at the wall clock. "I'll be there within 90 minutes or so."

"Thank you, Liam." Her voice was a bit stronger now.

But, he had already disconnected.

His big, freckled hands grasped the steering wheel of the station wagon as he headed down the Saw Mill River Parkway. He hated the contraptions, much preferred a fine piece of horseflesh. There was no problem at all borrowing one of the family's many cars, even though Ms. Trask gave him one of those schoolmarm looks.

Or maybe it was a nun look. Yeah, he could see Margery Trask in a habit, ruler in hand, rapping the knuckles of a daydreaming student. Or maybe not. She would be the kind Sister, the one you went to for a little bit of loving up.

What did Mary Pat want after all these years? How did she even know where to contact him?

And even more puzzling, what kind of trouble was his sister in?

xxxxxxxxxxx

He was lucky enough to find a parking spot near the shop. Regan remained in the car, watching the woman pacing in front of it. Mary Patricia Regan…Mangan. At least, he thought it might be Mangan. She met Timothy Mangan at St. Cecelia's. He was a wiry Black Irish guy, with big dreams and a winning charm.

Mary Pat fell hard for him and was inconsolable when he aged out of the orphanage. She was positive she would never see him again. Bill Regan, a few years younger, was delighted. All he had in this miserable world was Mary Pat; now the rival for her affections was no longer around.

Regan tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. I should have known better. A tightness burned in his gut. She promised him they would be together once she aged out. She'd find a job and come get him. They had time to figure out the rest of their lives.

He remembered the letter, the one slipped under his pillow while he slept. She was sorry, she said. Sorry to run away, leaving him there. Mary Pat had been seeing Tim on the sly, and she was going with him. They'd be married. When they were settled, they'd send for him.

Months passed as he waited. Every single day he expected a letter or telephone call, telling him that his sister and her husband were coming for him. And every day, every single day for 365 days after that, there was nothing.

She and Tim weren't coming back for him.

It was almost as bad as when their parents had died. But they had been killed in a house fire, one that he and Mary Pat escaped. They didn't leave their children voluntarily. They were taken.

All this roiled in his gut as he watched her.

She was thin, thinner than he remembered. Mary Pat had on an old coat, gray with age and many washings. Her hair, that crowning glory that burned with the same embers as his, appeared dull.

 _Oh, Mary Pat. What happened to you?_

xxxxxxx

Mary Patricia Regan Mangan wondered if Liam would show as she paced in front of the little neighborhood coffee place. It would serve her right if he didn't. She made promises to him so many years ago, promises she did not keep. She left a broken-hearted boy alone in the world. What kind of a monster am I?

You did it because you loved him. It was hard for her and Tim. Everything was so expensive! There were times they slept in a park or at a shelter. There were times when they were hungry. There were times when she thought maybe standing on a street corner for just a few nights would put a roof over their heads and food in their bellies.

But she was a good Catholic girl, at least most of the time. She married Tim when they scraped together some money. Tim was able to get work in Brooklyn, first as a security guard. She worked as a waitress and little by little, they bettered themselves. They both obtained their GED.

Tim became a fireman. Oh, she was so proud of him! Scared, too, when she knew he was running into burning buildings instead of out of them. She was attending CCNY part-time at night, hoping to become an educator.

It wasn't like I didn't try, she told herself. I called St. Cecelia's. They told me Liam ran away; they had no idea where he was and click!

Even now, the only reason she found him was the use of a free computer in the library and an internet search. He was employed as a groom by some really rich people upstate. Even as she stared at the grainy reproduction of the newspaper photo on the monitor, she couldn't help but be proud. Her brother, so tall and handsome, with a bunch of kids. He had helped apprehend a thief and possible kidnapper.

William Regan.

Liam.

It wasn't difficult to find out how to contact him. The difficult part was making the call. What right had she to ask his help when she abandoned him? Would he understand the years she and Tim spent trying to build a life? At least in the orphanage, Liam had three meals a day and a roof over his head.

In the end, she swallowed her trepidation and pride, made the call. He sounded older, an adult now and not the fourteen-year-old boy on the cusp of manhood.

And then he was there, standing in front of her in Brooklyn, of all places.

xxxxx

Daniel William Mangan chafed at the restrictions the lousy system that passed for justice in this country placed upon him. The judge in juvenile court allowed him to go home with his mother… with restrictions. No contact with the Cowhands, house arrest with one of those uncomfortable tracking devices on his ankle.

First offense, the judge provided some leniency, but he might as well have sentenced Dan to juvie for a couple of weeks. His mother kept the tiny apartment clean, but there was nothin' to do. No cable, no food, nothin' at all. He spied the schoolbooks on the table… there was always homework he could catch up on.

Naw. Nothin' to do.

He could barely recall the face of his father without looking at a photo. His mom and dad, impossibly young, in threadbare clothes being married by some old guy in a suit. Later, a small family in St. Finbar's in Bensonhurst, his mother and father being married by a priest, legally, in the eyes of the Church.

They were happy back then. Not rich, not poor, just comfortable. Ma was finishing up her teaching degree, and Da was a fireman. A hero, in young Daniel's eyes.

And then it all went to bloody hell.

An uninsured drunk driver, a firetruck racing to the scene; his father and several others critically, even mortally injured. His Da hadn't been working long enough for the fire department to be fully vested. There was a tiny widow's benefit and a small insurance policy that did not go far.

Home was now a walk-up over one of those places that were forever going out of business. Ma worked two jobs, three when she could, cleaning other people's messes up or waitressing at any greasy spoon that would hire her.

Dan found another family in the mean streets to fill up those long, lonely days and nights. A group of other throwaway kids, some with junkies as parents, others in the same situation as Dan. Why not take what they needed, take what they were owed? None of them asked to be born into this. It was their right, like, like Robin Hood. Only the poor they were giving to was themselves.

It all made sense when Luke was explaining it, even though Danny knew that his Da would be disappointed in him, his Ma even more so. But Da didn't have to go and die, and Ma didn't have to work so many jobs and leave him alone.

Even when he faced her sad eyes in court, he could still feel that burning anger. And could still feel guilty about it. That was the damnable part.

He still had enough of his parents in him to have a conscience.

xxxxx

"Liam." His name escaped in a long, hushed whisper. So tall now, strong and handsome, his green eyes shadowed.

"Mary Pat." The last time she heard his voice, it was not yet a man's. Once glance at her pretty, careworn face told him all he needed to know. Her eyes were always more hazel-green, more changeable than his, but there were lines in the corners that hadn't been there before. Her skin had a grayish cast, and he could see the slight tremors.

"Let's go inside." Drugs? Was she on drugs? His sister?

He made her sit while he bought a good Irish breakfast tea, strong, sweet, and full of cream. Blueberry scone – they were her favorite. For himself, coffee, black and strong, although he might just choke on it.

"Here you go." He placed the items in front of her, noted the thin gold band as she grasped the paper container and took an appreciative sniff of the contents.

"You remembered."

"I remember everything." He reached out a long, calloused finger and touched the gold band. "You married him." It was a statement, not a question as Regan wondered why Mangan wasn't here with his bride.

"Yes, Liam. I married him." Her eyes filled with tears. "And now, I am his widow."

His mouth bowed into an O. Whatever he thought she might reveal… they were divorced, Mangan was abusive and she was on the run, she needed money because he was gonna get his legs broken… it was not that Timothy Mangan was dead.

"What happened?" Regan wanted her to say it was a bar fight. Or he was killed robbing a bank. After all, he robbed his sister from him, right?

"He was… he became a fireman, Liam. He was on duty, on the firetruck, racing to a fire. I never could understand that, going to a fire. Not after what happened to our parents. A drunk driver ignored the sirens. There was a crash, and Tim was killed. Thrown from the truck."

"I'm sorry, Mary Pat. I didn't know. You should… you should have contacted me." Now he knew the reason for the grief in her eyes.

"I didn't know where you were! Liam, I did go back for you. I did. Tim and I… we had a hard time of it at first. Sleeping in parks, crashing with friends. Sometimes not having enough to eat. You were in a place where you had a roof over your head and three squares a day. By the time we were able to take you, Mother Superior told me you had run away."

"There was nothing there for me after you left. I would have gladly slept in parks or begged for food if I could have been with you."

Mary Pat didn't reply. What was the use of starting an argument? Liam would have hated being out on the streets.

"Where did you go?"

"I ended up working with horses, here and there, mainly Saratoga. Got my high-school diploma and I'm finishing up a degree in Equestrian Studies and Business Management." Someday, he'd be in business with Matt Wheeler, and they'd breed the best quarter horses and Friesians in the country. Not even the kids knew about his college career. It had been a long, arduous slog.

"I was about twelve credits shy of getting my teaching degree when… when Tim was killed. The drunk driver was uninsured, and Tim was not vested yet. The insurance money from his employment didn't last very long. I'm working several jobs now, cleaning and waitressing." Mary Pat looked away. It's not that those weren't honorable professions. They just didn't pay very much.

"Why the call now, Mary Pat? What do you need?" Regan needed to know. A loan? A lawyer? What?

She looked away, looked at all the people getting their drinks, reading the paper, having conversations. She inhaled deeply, blew it out to calm her nerves. "I didn't tell you everything, Liam. I have a son. Tim and I had a little boy. Daniel William Mangan."

Regan's eyes widened, and a shaft of pride bloomed within. She named her son after him. "Where is he now?" Regan demanded. "He's… home. And he's why I called you."

"Is the boy ill or something?" His mind was filled with images of a sick little boy needing a kidney or bone marrow transplant from a near relative. Just like in books or the movies. "Who takes care of him when you're working?"

"He's not so little anymore, Liam. Fifteen going on fifty. He… I thought he was responsible. Danny idolized his father. Tim was a hero to him. That's why I can't understand it."

"Understand what, Mary Pat?""He was arrested. My Danny. For… for shoplifting. The cops told me he's part of a gang that calls themselves the Cowhands. That they'd been using weed, underage drinking, terrorizing other kids, stealing purses, and shoplifting. He's been sneaking out at night, not going to school every day."

"And the school didn't notify you?" Regan thought of the kids back home. Jim and Honey; the Beldens, Brian Mart, Trixie and even little Bobby; Diana Lynch and all her brothers and sisters. The Sleepyside schools would be contacting the parents in a heartbeat if their kids didn't show up for class and a parent didn't contact the schools.

Mary Pat gave a short, bitter laugh. "You're joking, right? We don't live in a great area. The schools there have enough problems trying to keep the kids from killing each other or the teachers. I thought I could trust Danny."

"Where is he now?"

"Home, with an ankle bracelet on. The judge was a little more lenient because it's his first offense. They want me to come up with a plan, Liam. Or else Danny's going to end up in juvie or jail." The courts weren't treating gang members lightly these days.

"You need money for an attorney?"

Mary Pat reached into a pocket and removed a creased photo, placing it on the table face up and sliding it over to Regan. "That's Danny. No, we have a legal aid guy. I need something else from you." Her brother couldn't see it, but her hands were shaking as she knit her fingers together under the table.

Regan picked up the photograph, studying it. My nephew, how strange to say that word. He looked more like Tim with that black hair and those dark eyes, but he could see his sister's impish grin. His troubled eyes flicked up to his sister, waiting.

"I need to get him out of the City, Liam. Away from all those bad influences. I know, deep inside, he's a good kid. I saw that picture of you in the paper, the one with all those kids when you helped catch a thief. They all look… nice. Wholesome. I want you to take Danny in if you can."

"Mary Pat, I'm not married. I live in an apartment over the stables. I don't know anything about raising a kid, especially a rebellious one."

"Please, Liam. You're my only hope. Danny will end up in jail or dead. I just can't lose him, too."

Regan stared into the tear-filled eyes of his older sister. Was it his job to take care of her and her son now? In his head, he could hear his Da. It wasn't politically correct, but it was just what Da would say. _"She's a girl, son. The weaker sex. Men always look after their women. Always."_

 _No_ , he thought. _She's not weak. She's strong, stronger than I could have been. She tried to make a life for herself and the boy._

"Let me talk to my employer, MP," he said, falling into the old nickname without thinking. "I can't promise anything right now, but I can try. When are you due back in court?"

"Two weeks from today. Thank you, thank you, Liam." Her shoulders straightened now that the weight was falling off them. Her eyes took on a bit more sparkle.

"Do you have a phone?"

"No. I called you from one of the LinkNYC hubs." The free Wi-Fi kiosks were dotted around the five boroughs to replace payphones.

"We'll need a way to contact each other." It was easily rectified. Any block in City had retail stores selling cell phones. "Come with me."

Forty-five minutes later, she was the owner of an amazing smartphone. Oh, Mary Pat protested at first, but Regan overruled her. "I'll never learn how to use this," she giggled.

"You will, and then you'll never want to be without one. I must get back, Mary Pat. Can I drop you somewhere?"

She didn't want him to see where she lived, so she made up a tiny, ever so small fib. "I have a cleaning job to get to a block or two from here, so no, thank you, Liam." She paused, looking up into her brother's eyes, those eyes she never thought she'd see again. "I love you, Liam. I always have, and I always will. My one regret is not coming back for you sooner. For not making you a part of our lives."

"We need to let go of the past, MP. I love you, too." Those words never came easy for him, and his lack of uttering them torpedoed quite a few relationships.

Regan watched her walk down the block, repressing the urge to just run after her. When she turned the corner, he crossed the street and slid into the car. A few moments later, he heard the voice of Margery Trask, Honey's sort-of governess, but, in reality, the estate manager.

"Hi, Marge."

"Regan. Everything all right?"

"I need to set up an appointment to speak with Mr. Wheeler as soon as possible."

"Seven-thirty tonight sound good?"

"I'll be there."

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Matt Wheeler, businessman, and gazillionaire extraordinaire, was quizzing Margery Trask at the dinner table. "He didn't say what his errand was or what he wants to speak to me about?"

"No, not at all. When Regan came home, he did look unusually grim, though."

"I hope he is not planning to quit," Madeleine Wheeler fretted. It was hard enough trying to remember the chef's name since there seemed to be a revolving door in the kitchen. They finally resorted to calling everyone Cook.

"The kids would be devastated," Matt agreed. Their daughter was spending the night at her best friend's house; Jim was eating dinner there, and they weren't privy to this conversation, but he knew Honey and Trixie would be terribly hurt.

"I don't think he wants to leave Manor House. I think, and I don't know why, it was something personal." Margery couldn't shake the feeling. They all knew Regan was an orphan and that he once had a sister.

"I guess we'll soon find out," Matt murmured. Privately, he wondered if it had to do with the horse-doping scandal from ten or so years back. Regan had been a suspect up in Saratoga, but Matt knew it wasn't true. Not with the way his groom felt about horses, indeed, about all animals. There was no way Bill Regan would inject chemicals into a thoroughbred. The private investigator Matt hired to check into Regan's background was hot about confronting the parties involved, but Matt declined. It was Regan's fight, and there would come a time when he had to fight it.

And then, and only then, would Matt offer his considerable resources.

In the meantime, Jed Tomlinson was going to be selling up. The man had a sweet horse farm not too far from Glen Road. Tomlinson approached Matt first, six months before he planned to put the farm on the market. A deal had been struck a few minutes later. It would be a wonderful place to raise quarter horses and Friesians, and Regan would be just the man to run it. They had talked about it some, and things were falling into place.

xxxxxx

At precisely seven-thirty, Regan knocked on the study door in the big house, as he thought of it. When the family first moved in, the décor was quite fussy. Now that they settled in, little by little there were subtle changes in the place. Showplace was becoming comfortable and relaxed. Honey had been a frilly little dress type of girl, rather prissy in Regan's view. After a few months with Trixie Belden, Honey was an active, athletic girl who was most at home in jeans and a t-shirt.

Little Miss Nonsense was having quite the effect on the Wheelers.

"Come in, Regan." His employer's voice floated, muffled, through the door. Regan opened the heavy oak door and stepped into Matt Wheeler's private world. It was a man's room, a successful man, at that. Oriental carpet on the floor that probably cost more than the thoroughbreds he once worked with. A heavy mahogany desk with a state-of-the-art computer system and matching bookshelves built into the wall behind it.

There was a seating area directly to the right, with two burgundy leather Queen-Anne style chairs and a matching sofa. A coffee table was placed directly in the middle, and a decorative box with hand-carved game animals was its only adornment. Regan knew that box was filled with the Cuban cigars Matt Wheeler snuck every so often.

He smelled them more than once outside the stables.

Regan appreciated that Matt Wheeler was not sitting in the power position behind that intimidating desk. Rather, he was in the conversation area and gestured for the other man to take a seat. "Good evening, Regan. I'd offer you a cigar, but you know how Maddie feels about them."

"Thanks for seeing me on such short notice, Mr. Wheeler. I really appreciate it."

"So how can I help you?" Matt leaned back in his chair and observed the other man. Regan was distinctly uncomfortable; there was a slight flush that highlighted his freckles. A proud man, it must be something serious for him to ask for assistance.

"Mr. Wheeler, I received a phone call on the business line in the stables this morning. I almost couldn't believe my ears. It was my sister. I hadn't heard from her in years, even before I ran away from the orphanage."

"Ah. Yes, I can see that must've been a shock. How did she track you down?"

"Courtesy of Ms. Trixie Belden." Regan rolled his eyes. "She was searching for any information about me on the Internet, and of course, I popped up as one of the peripheral characters in Trixie's ongoing adventures."

Matt barked out a laugh. "All of our lives have never been the same since that little girl entered them." Especially his son, Jim. They may only be teenagers now, but Matt fully expected his son to marry the girl. It was as plain as the adoring expressions on their faces whenever they looked at each other.

"That is absolutely for sure. Anyway, my sister, Mary Patricia, asked me to meet her at a coffee shop in Brooklyn. She said she was in trouble and needed my help. I kind of went down there expecting that she was going to ask me for a loan or some other monetary reason. It wasn't that at all." Regan shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with revealing his private family business to his employer.

"What did she want, Regan?" Matt was familiar with relatives and friends who came out of the woodwork expecting a handout.

Regan leaned forward, his elbows on his thighs and his hands clasped between his knees. "She was in a pretty bad way. No drugs or anything like that. You can tell she didn't have much money for the clothes she wore, and she looked very tired. I don't know if you know, but she ran away from the orphanage with a man named Tim Mangan."

"Leaving you there alone. And she never got back in touch?"

"She said she tried to get in touch with me once she and Tim were settled. She said they had a hard time of it for a while, sleeping on park benches or shelters. She told me that she was comforted by the fact that I was still at St. Cecelia's and she knew that I would have food and shelter. By the time… By the time she and he were able to take me, I had already run away."

"Was her husband with her?"

"No. Mary Pat told me that Tim had become a fireman. He was killed in an accident on the way to a fire. A drunk driver hit the fire truck. Since his employment was fairly recent, and the driver was uninsured, there was only a small insurance policy. She was studying at CCNY to become a teacher. She had to leave her studies, and she's been working several jobs ever since. Mostly cleaning and waitressing."

"I'm sorry, Regan. That's very sad. What exactly did she want from you, after all these years?"

Regan closed his eyes, trying to summon up the words to explain. "She and Tim had a child, a boy. Daniel William Mangan. She's been working several jobs to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table, but it appears that Dan got involved with a gang. Not the Crips or Bloods, but a neighborhood gang called the Cowhands. Mary Pat had no idea that her son was involved until he got picked up by the police for shoplifting. He's on house arrest right now, one of those ankle bracelets. She wants… She wants me to take the boy and raise him here. She figures that he'll be away from the city and all his lousy friends. She saw the picture of me with the Bob-Whites and thought they would be a wonderful influence on Dan."

"How old is the boy?"

"15."

"When does he have to appear in court?"

"In a couple of weeks."

"What do you want to do, Regan?" Matt stroked his chin. His mind was already busy with the ramifications of bringing what could be a hardened city kid into a country world.

Regan rubbed the back of his neck, where all the tension that had been present since Mary Pat called was currently residing. "I want to help my sister, Mr. Wheeler. But, I'm a bachelor. All I have is my apartment above the stables. I've been with the BWGs, but I really have no experience raising a child, especially one with issues."

"All right, Regan. Let me think about this for a while. If we do allow Dan to come and live here, I need to speak to Peter and Helen Belden and Ed and Sharon Lynch. They may not want their children hanging around a gang member. I need to get their input and acceptance."

"Understood, Mr. Wheeler. Thanks." Both men stood and shook hands.

"I'll get back to you in a couple of days."

As soon as Regan closed the door behind him, Matt picked up his phone. He was going to find out everything there was to know about Mary Patricia Regan Mangan and her son, Daniel. Then, and only then, would he speak to the other parents.

xxxxxxxxxx

Mary Pat was exhausted when she returned home. Not only from being on her feet the rest of the day at Nunzio's but from the storm of emotion that swept through her at reuniting with Liam. How well he looked, tall, strong, and handsome. It was hard to believe it was the same gangly boy she left behind.

"Danny? I have Chinese." It was an expense they couldn't afford, but in a small way, it was a celebration. Even if Liam couldn't help, at least she connected with him once more. That had to count for something.

"Danny? Daniel?" When he didn't respond, she knocked on his bedroom door, pushed it open. He was lying on his bed, a sour expression on his face. "I called you. I brought home Chinese."

"About time. I'm starving and bored." His nasty words brought a stricken look to his mother's face, making him feel even more miserable and guilty. He brushed past her and took the few steps from his tiny bedroom to the even tinier kitchen.

Mary Pat followed him, her steps slow and heart heavy. What happened to that laughing little boy, the one who kissed her face and called her Mama? All that remained was this surly teenager with the perpetual pout and challenging attitude.

They ate in silence, each wrapped in their own thoughts. Dan chafed at the court's restrictions n his freedom He was sure Luke and the rest of the gang were having a great time without him, weren't they? At least they were so nimble-fingered as not to get caught. Next time, he wouldn't either.

Mary Pat was alternately angry with Tim and wishing he was there. He had nerve, getting killed. Why couldn't he have pursued a safer job, like sanitation worker or something? Was she doing that bad of a job raising their son alone? Was she the lousiest mother in the world?

Mary Pat glanced at the unopened schoolbooks and bit back a sigh. Nothing was going to be solved right now. Maybe not in the future, either. Their lives were in stasis for the next two long weeks.

Xxxxxxxxx

A day later, Matt Wheeler opened the e-file that had everything you ever wanted to know about Timothy, Mary Patricia, and Daniel Mangan. It was almost as Regan had described: in the first stages of becoming upwardly mobile, hard working. If Tim hadn't been killed, no doubt the family would have been living in their own house and Mary Patricia would be teaching.

Matt studied the picture of Regan's sister and her son. She was pretty, although life had beaten her down. Daniel, a typical teen with a promise of future handsomeness, looked James-Dean surly. The attitude did not reach his eyes, though. The gang he was involved with was more of a neighborhood thing, interested in boosting items to sell for cash. It wouldn't be long before one of the older, more established gangs took notice.

Then there would be real trouble.

The scared, defiant, miserable look in the boy's eyes is what finally decided Matt. This was a kid who needed a firm hand and something to do besides hanging out on street corners. He clicked off the folder and grinned, thinking of his daughter Honey and her best friend, Trixie. They talked about opening a detective agency, and he wondered if they knew their jobs would be mainly doing stuff like this. Not quite the glamorous apprehension of criminals they envisaged.

If the motley crew assembled in the private dining room at the Glen Road Inn wondered why Matt Wheeler summoned them there for an important meeting after dinner, it wasn't apparent by the smiles and laughter issuing from within. Helen Belden picked up on the strain in Regan's usually clear green eyes almost immediately and wondered if they were there because of the well-liked groom. She hoped not; the kids loved him to death.

After dinner, Matt closed the door to the room and took a deep breath before turning to the others. Everything he planned hinged on the agreement of the Lynches, the Beldens, and Regan himself. He already spoke with Thomas Maypenny and received a blessing on his quite outrageous plan.

"I know you're all wondering why I asked you to meet Maddie and me here. Regan has recently received some upsetting news. I want to share it with you, with his permission, and outline some steps I hope we all can agree about."

Everyone's eyes flew to the other red-headed man in the room, who colored lightly and nodded. Their curiosity piqued, they looked back at Matt. Matt explained Regan's background and ended with the contact made by Mary Patricia.

"And that contact is why you are all here. Mary Patricia, as I just explained, was widowed early on. To make ends meet, she is working several low-paying jobs. She has a son, fifteen. Daniel William Mangan. The son is in trouble. He's a latchkey kid and has fallen in with a pseudo-gang called the Cowhands. I had some research done, and they are mainly just a group of neighborhood punks who think they are badass. The Cowhands are involved in some petty theft-type crimes, truancy, underage drinking, purse snatching, and smoking weed. They haven't yet graduated to boosting cars or murder. Either the gang will be absorbed by another, older more established gang like the Crips or Bloods, or there will be a turf war, and they will come out on the losing end. Dead." Matt paused to let all this information sink in.

Regan was surprised his employer was able to gather all the information in a matter of hours. Regan glanced at the faces of the parents – and Mr. Maypenny, although he couldn't figure out why the older man was there. There was concern on their faces and maybe just a tiny bit of smugness, too.

They weren't the ones with a wild child.

"Mary Patricia has asked Regan to take the boy, get him out of the City and away from bad influences. Regan came to me to discuss this matter. After a lot of thought, I am inclined to let the boy come to Sleepyside. However, I understand that you all may have valid concerns about a nascent gang member among your children. Therefore, I think this should be a group discussion."

Peter Belden was the first to ask. "What kind of trouble is Daniel in?"

Regan spoke then. "He was arrested for shoplifting in a bodega in Brooklyn. It's his first offense, according to my sister." He pressed his fingers against his eyes. "Right now, the juvenile judge has him under house arrest, you know, one of those monitoring devices on his leg because of the gang affiliation."

"But he isn't violent, is he? No guns or anything like that?" Sharon Lynch tapped her fingernails on the table.

"No, from what my source has been able to discover, the Cowhands are small-time. They wear black leather jackets and think they are James Dean." Matt referred to the old fifties version of a juvenile delinquent. "I feel for them and their parents. Most of them are latchkey kids or the parent has a drug problem."

"What about drugs?" That was Helen Belden's main concern. "Is Daniel involved in drugs?"

"They did drug test him when he was arrested. I can tell you that it was negative," Matt informed the group. "That's one good thing in his favor."

"I'm not sure why Mr. Maypenny is here," Ed Lynch stated. What would the old man have to do with Regan's miscreant nephew coming to stay?

"He is part of my proposition." Matt took a deep breath. "I don't know if all of you know this, but Jed Tomlinson is retiring to Florida. I had first dibs on his place, and I exercised my right to purchase it. Sadly, the place needs extensive renovation and updating. After it is completed, Regan and I will be breeding quarter horses and Friesians there. I will need someone on the site to ensure the construction is going as planned. It is going to take several years to get the place in shape. I would like Mary Patricia Mangan to be that person. She'll get out of the City, room and board, and a salary. She can also pursue finishing her credits for a teaching degree."

Regan was stunned by Matt Wheeler's announcement. His green eyes flew to Matt's face, trying to read if he was serious.

He was.

"Daniel will go to live with Mr. Maypenny, The stables are not suitable for a boy his age, nor could Regan give him the attention and discipline Daniel needs, and Mary Patricia needs to concentrate on getting herself well and established. A portion of her paycheck will be deducted monthly to reimburse Mr. Maypenny for any additional expenses. He'll live with Mr. Maypenny for the duration of the construction."

"Brilliant idea," Peter remarked to the room. "Daniel doesn't sound as if he is carrying a gun or switchblade. The fact that he failed shoplifting 101 is in his favor."

"I'm gettin' on in years," Thomas Maypenny admitted. "I could use the help. A surly teenager is no match for me. I had a whole troop of 'em when I was in the war."

"Mr. Maypenny will provide the structure and discipline Daniel needs. Being out in the middle of nowhere with no outside distractions will be good for the boy. I think being around the Bob-Whites will be wonderful, too. He'll see that there are gangs and there are families, and they are not interchangeable. Jim and Brian will be a good influence. They're great, honorable kids. I have no worries about Dan being able to influence them. Six is greater than one."

"I am not so sure my sister will agree, Mr. Wheeler. Dan is all she has left." Even though the Tomlinson place and Mr. Maypenny's weren't so far apart, it would still be gut-wrenching for a mother to give her child to a total stranger.

"Of course, that is her choice, Regan. However, it is the only choice I am offering. The apartment above the stable is not suitable for more than one person. You won't be able to provide the attention the boy requires to turn him around. Tomlinson's farm needs renovations, as I said, and I think there needs to be some distance between the boy and his mother, Of course, you and your sister are free to come to another arrangement. Are we all in agreement?"

Sharon Lynch frowned. She was hesitant to speak up, especially to Matthew Wheeler. Ed idolized the magnate. "What guarantee do we have regarding the safety of the kids?" she asked in her no-nonsense Mother of Five voice.

Maddie gave her an easy smile, one mother to another. "Sharon, if Matt and his sources say Daniel is not the violent type of kid, you can be comfortable in knowing the information is impeccable."

"What happens if it doesn't work out?" Helen fretted. "It's not good for a child to be shipped from place to place. And Sharon… based on all the adventures the kids have been involved in, I would say Daniel Mangan is the least of our worries."

Regan spoke up then. "My sister is terrified of losing the boy. The impression I received from her is that he is a good kid, just lost since his father died. I think being around real families and some honest, hard work will be good for him. Sometimes all we need is a lantern in the darkness." For him, horses had been that lantern. For Jim Frayne and Honey Wheeler, it had been Trixie Belden. Regan suspected that all the BWGs would be the beacon that drew him away from the path on which he was heading. He wondered if Dan would form a special bond with Jim Frayne. Both had suffered the loss of parents, and the consequences were brutal.

"Mr. Maypenny, do you need any help getting ready for the boy?" Peter wondered if Maypenny's cabin in the woods was large enough to house the older man and his soon-to-be-charge. Maypenny was a notorious loner, and Peter had only glimpsed the cabin once or twice.

"No, I have more than enough space." He built the place when he was younger, always expecting to someday bring a wife back and maybe have a couple children. It didn't pan out that way, but he had no regrets. "I don't have television or the internet though." Nope, a radio was good enough for him, and the daily New York Times and Sleepyside Sun that old fussbucket Frank Lytell saved for him every day. A well-stocked library rounded out his love of the written word.

Thomas Maypenny was eccentric. There was no doubt of that. He was a survivalist before the word was coined, a man who lived off the grid and on the land. What the others didn't know was that he invested his money wisely and was nicely well-off. Certainly, not in the league of the Wheelers or Lynches, but well enough off to have had that cabin razed and a new, modern McMansion built if he had the desire to do so.

He did not.

He ached for family, though. He had a nephew who was too busy to see him, thought he was a crazy old recluse. Since the Bob-Whites discovered him, one or more of them were always dropping by to say hi and perhaps join him for a meal.

They were his family now.

And you'd do anything for family.

xxxxx

Regan called his sister a half-hour after everyone agreed to give Daniel a chance. He just hoped they wouldn't regret opening their stretchy hearts yet again. "MP?"

"Liam. Hold up, let me get to a less noisy area." Her heart began thundering in her chest, its movements so hard a person could see her blouse ticking with each accelerated beat. "Okay."

"I need to see you. When is a good time to meet?"

There was no good time. She'd either have to take time off work or leave Danny alone. "You name the time, and I'll be there."

"Tomorrow, around eleven. Can you get to Manhattan? Wheeler Building on Wall Street." He rattled off the fancy address. "When you get to reception, just give them your name."

"Oh-okay, Liam. Why there?" She knew the building. It was in the business news often enough. It would mean subway fare and a walk, but she'd be there among all the financial glitterati in their fine, tailored clothes and stratospheric salaries.

Out of place, but there.

"It's okay, MP. Just be there."

She heard the distinctive whinny of a horse in the background. "I gotta go, Jupe's acting up."

After Liam disconnected, Mary Pat looked up at the blue sky. A horse! Fresh air and good food! She spoke aloud, hoping her voice carried up to Heaven. "Tim, please let me be doing the right thing. Please. It's for our boy."

The loud voice of her boss broke her prayer. "I ain't paying you to stand around, Mangan, or take phone breaks. You have tables that need clearing."

She slipped the cell phone back into her uniform pocket and went back to cleaning up other people's messes.

xxxxxxx

The next day, dressed in her Sunday best, Mary Pat tried to make an escape before Dan caught a glimpse of her. It was to no avail; he was sitting in what passed for a kitchen, staring at his schoolbooks as if the knowledge within was about to devour him.

Dan looked up as he heard the slight footsteps of his Ma. "Somebody die?" he inquired, noting her attire.

He wasn't so far gone as to not notice the quick pain that leaped into her eyes. That ball of guilt and anger permanently lodged in his gut expanded just that bit more.

"I have an appointment in Manhattan, honey."

In the self-centric way of most teenagers, Dan immediately assumed it was about him. "We already have a legal aid lawyer, Ma." Even though he suspected the guy graduated at the bottom of his class, it was Dan's first offense.

And even an inexperienced attorney would be able to argue that. They didn't put first offenders in juvie or jail, although the state recently passed the Get Tough on Gangs Bill, referred to as G-Tog. Right? That's what Luke said.

"We're not getting another attorney, Danny. In any case, we can't afford it. It's Manhattan."

"I guess so, Ma." He wanted to ask his mother more, but he didn't. He had his suspicions, though. Ma would do anything for me. Anything. He saw the smartphone on her nightstand before she snatched it up and put it away. They couldn't afford anything like that. Now she was going to Manhattan, all dressed nice and with some makeup on.

It gnawed at him, this sudden suspicion. Was his mother, um, was she employed by an escort agency? Or maybe she had snagged a sugar daddy and was making a booty call? There was only one reason a strict Catholic woman like his mother would stoop to breaking a whole slew of commandments and Church teachings.

For him. To save him.

Dan pressed down on his belly, shot with pain. Between the arrest, jail, appearing in court, and worry about his mother and his future, his gut tightened as he tasted the sour acid in his mouth.

 _Great. Just what I need._

An ulcer at age 15.

xxxxxx

Mary Patricia Mangan stood in front of 1 Wall Street, an Art Deco masterpiece soaring 50 floors into the NYC sky. She was here, in the financial hub of the world and couldn't have felt more out-of-place if she was led to a barn to milk a cow.

All around her, men and women were scurrying in that peculiar Manhattan I've-got-somewhere-important-to-be-and-you-don't power walk. Most were talking on cell phones, the men carrying leather briefcases and the women expensive designer totes.

She felt completely shabby compared to the women wearing thousand-dollar Jimmy Choos or Louboutins. She glanced up at the imposing building, beautiful and distinctive compared to the steel and glass behemoths that dwarfed it. The canopy over the door was a deep blue with discreet gold lettering that read, simply, One Wall Street.

Matt Wheeler bought the building for a song after 9/11 briefly impacted the City real estate market. Besides, the Landmark Commission did not approve of the prior developer's idea to turn the venerable old lady into ridiculously priced condos. Almost entire building was occupied by the powerhouse Wheeler/Hart Corporation, LLC.

Mary Pat pushed through the revolving doors. The lobby was beautiful, the Art-Deco murals simply breathtaking. She approached the reception area in the huge room. Several people were working behind the black granite desk, either answering incoming landline calls, internal calls and directing visitors to the appropriate area. A pretty girl, makeup perfect and with blindingly white teeth smiled at Mary Pat. "How can I help you, ma'am?"

"Oh. I'm supposed to meet my brother. William Regan? He… He told me to ask for him at the desk." God, she hoped she was in the right building. This seemed quite out of their league.

"Oh, yes." If anything, the receptionist's smile became even wider. This rather nondescript woman was meeting with no less than Matthew Wheeler himself. She must be awfully special to warrant a meeting with the Big Man. "Tyrone, please escort Mrs. Mangan to Mr. Wheeler's office."

"No need to go to any trouble! If you can point me in the right direction, I can find it myself." Mary Pat could tell that it was busy at the reception desk and she didn't want to take anyone away from their job.

"Nonsense," the man called Tyrone smiled at her. "It's my job to escort very important guests. And you, Mrs. Mangan, are one of them."

Every bit of the lobby, including the elevators, was stunningly beautiful. "I envy you, working in such surroundings," Mary Pat said to the young man with the café au lait skin and long dreads.

"It is lovely, isn't it? I thank the Lord every day that Mr. Wheeler was able to save the building from developers, as well as giving thanks for this job."

"It would have been awful to have this turned into a generic building," Mary Pat agreed. They stepped into a private elevator which began the quick ascent to the penthouse. Unfortunately, Mary Pat's stomach didn't follow quite as swiftly. She pressed her hand to her abdomen. "Oh, my!"

Tyrone laughed. "You get used to it after a while." In short order, the elevator doors whooshed open to reveal the spacious penthouse offices. There was a separate but matching reception desk. "Janelle, this is Mrs. Mangan. I believe she has an appointment with Mr. Wheeler and Mr. Regan."

"Of course. Good morning, Mrs. Mangan. You can take her right to Mr. Wheeler's office, Tyrone."

Mary Pat stared at the elegant, rather opulent surroundings as she followed Tyrone down the hall. Granite floors, original artwork on the walls, people scurrying about with sheaves of paper in their hands. Everyone had a smile, though, or a nod.

Tyrone paused before the oak double doors. On the right was a name plaque, similar to others they had passed. MATTHEW WHEELER, in the same size letters, etched into bronze. Nothing fancier than the rest of the staff, nothing to infer this was Matthew Wheeler. The only concession was the double doors. When Tyrone knocked and was bade to enter, Mary Pat felt as if she were in a movie set.

"Go right in, Tyrone. Welcome, Mrs. Mangan." The ice-blonde at the desk clacking away a mile a minute was Gloria Beck, Personal Assistant, and Gatekeeper for the Boss. The woman's smile was warm and welcoming but did little to quell Mary Pat's nervous stomach. The P.A.'s outer office was nearly as large as the apartment Mary Pat, and Daniel rented.

Tyrone ushered her through one side of another set of double doors, gave her a saucy wink, and stepped out, shutting the door behind him. Two tall men were standing by a gas fireplace. Liam and Mr. Matthew Wheeler.

It's funny the things that cross your mind when you are scared out of it. Her brother and his employer both had red hair and green eyes – could've been related! She was familiar with Matt Wheeler. He was in the papers and on television in the business sections of both often enough.

Plus, there were those pictures of Mr. Wheeler and his beautiful wife attending various social functions, although they hadn't been as much in the news for that sort of thing lately.

"Mary Pat. You look nice." Her brother's voice washed over her. She wanted to protest. She wanted to say her clothes were worn and out-of-date. She wanted to meet Matt Wheeler at some glitzy party where she was dressed in a ball gown by some designer whose name she couldn't pronounce.

"Thank you."

Matt Wheeler stepped forward, his cool green eyes taking her in at once as Regan performed the introduction. "Mary Patricia Regan Mangan, this is Matthew Wheeler, my employer."

"Happy to meet you, Mrs. Mangan." His voice was gentle, not at all like a bombastic Wall Street Genius.

"As I am to meet you, sir." Why did she feel like curtseying instead of placing her cool hand in his?

"Let's sit down and get comfortable," Matt invited. Mary Pat and Regan sat on the long leather couch as Matt took the chair opposite. There was a brief rap at the door; Gloria entered pushing a tea cart set with a sterling silver tea service. The only anomaly was the sturdy mugs with the Wheeler/Hart logo. Dainty little crudités were set out in an appetizing array.

Matt, playing Mother, poured mugs of tea to the Regan-Mangan family before settling back in his chair, his big hands cradling the warmth seeping through the porcelain.

"Regan has told me about your husband and son. I'm sorry for your loss, Mrs. Mangan."

"Thank you, Mr. Wheeler. We miss him every day, Danny and I."

"Regan explained the situation to me. Your wish is that your son is brought to Sleepyside to live, away from bad influences." Matt stated the whole situation in a couple of concise, gentle sentences.

"Danny is a good boy," Mary Pat jumped in, her voice fierce. Her tell was the way her hands shook around the mug of simple, sweet, hot tea. "It's my fault. If I didn't have to work so much…" her voice trailed away, and her shoulders slumped.

"Mrs. Mangan, Regan's apartment over the stables is not suitable for raising a child, even a teenager. He would not be able to provide the discipline and guidance Dan requires." Matt noted the quick look of defeat in her eyes, and hastened to add, "But, we have another alternative."

"Not a military school or anything like that!"

"No, not that." Matt laid out the entire plan. The stables, a job and home for her, a quite generous salary, the ability to get her teaching degree. Dan would live with a man in the preserve, as Matt called it, a trustworthy old soul who would teach him, guide him, and usher him into manhood.

Mary Pat's eyes widened at the proposal, round saucers as she glanced at her brother. "But, what if this Mr. Maypenny is… is a child molester or something?"

Regan barked out a laugh. "MP, Mr. Maypenny is a crusty old soul with a heart of gold. The Beldens, Lynches, and Wheelers trust him implicitly with their kids. One or more of them is always dropping by to say hi and for some of his delicious stew. You couldn't find a better man." Regan paused, still seeing the doubt in Mary Pat's eyes.

"Dan would be living right in the preserve, a heavily forested area that Mr. Wheeler bought and is keeping natural. Not so far away that he couldn't walk or ride one of the horses to where you are staying. He'd be near the Bob-Whites of the Glen, those kids I was pictured with. It's a club, MP, not a gang. They are constantly doing charity work and fund-raisers. They are good kids. He'll get to do things with them you and I couldn't do for him."

"Sleepyside Junior-Senior High School is a wonderful school, too. The kids are bused in as we are several miles from town proper. You would be able to finish your teaching degree, Mrs. Mangan. The town is charming and believe me, I am more than happy Maddie, and I decided to relocate here. I don't miss New York City living at all. My daughter was sickly and timid when we moved here. You'd never guess she was the same child now. Strong, healthy, adventurous."

"I'd… I'd like to meet this Mr. Maypenny before I decide," Mary Pat asserted. This was her child, after all. The move Mr. Wheeler was offering was fantastic, wonderful. She'd be able to do things she never thought she could do again.

However, the cost was handing her son over to a complete stranger.

And she wasn't sure she was willing to do that. Having Liam ride herd over him was one thing. He was family.

But, that little voice inserted, Liam's a stranger now, too. What's the difference?

"Your brother thought that you might ask to meet Mr. Maypenny." Matt rose and crossed over to his desk, pressing the intercom button. "Gloria, please escort Mr. Maypenny into the office."

A moment later, the connecting door to the outer office opened, and Thomas Maypenny stepped inside. "I haven't been to the city in some time, Matt. This is quite some place you have here."

Mary Pat sized up the man in a few seconds. Being in a customer service industry where you were face-to-face with people from all walks of life on a daily basis, she developed a finely-honed sixth sense. She could tell the ones that were going to stiff her; the ones that would leave or try to leave, without paying; the men who would get grabby with her; and the ones that would leave her a good tip.

The man, this Thomas Maypenny who apparently assented to taking Daniel to live with him, may have looked like something out of Survivalist Magazine. But, his brown eyes were kind and had crinkles at the side from smiling. There were no frown lines etched into his face; even a few steps away from her, he smelled like the great outdoors.

The tightness in her chest eased as Matthew Wheeler made the introductions.

"I'm pleased to meet you, ma'am. And don't you fret about your boy. I've worked with a lot harder cases than he appears to be. Used to be that judges sent up the hardest case juvenile delinquents to the Army to straighten them up."

Mary Pat took his calloused hand in hers and smiled. "And somehow I think that most of them came out better from knowing you."

"I'd like to think so. Now, if you're sure that you want your boy to come and live with me, we best settle down and work out all the details. I'm wanting to get back to my land. The City ain't for the likes of me."

The quartet spent the next hour finalizing Project Dan. Matt Wheeler insisted that his attorney replace the Legal Aid attorney that was handling the case. "I have a wonderful woman, very compassionate. She handled my son's adoption. I'll also handle moving you out to the old Tomlinson place, Mrs. Mangan. Old Jed had a main house, several barns, paddocks and a lovely guest house. I think for the time being you will move into the guest house. It needs very little repair. It's the main house and the rest of the outbuildings that are going to take time to bring up to standards. We all will have to appear at Daniel's hearing with you."

"Oh, Mr. Wheeler, I'm sure that you are much too busy to take time for that."

"I think it would be a good thing, Mary Patricia. When you have someone the stature of Mr. Wheeler appearing on behalf of Daniel, what judge in the world would go against him? The Family Court will also want to meet Mr. Maypenny to assure themselves that he is an upright citizen." Regan was amazed at the support his employer was providing.

"We will also have to contact his Case Worker. We have a lot to do in less than two weeks. Mrs. Mangan, you will need to advise your son that you both will be moving. I'm sure that he's going to give you a whole lot of grief over it. You need to stand strong."

"I will. Mr. Maypenny, I can't thank you both enough for what you are doing for me and my boy. When I called my brother for help, I never imagined all of this. It's more than I deserve."

"That is utter nonsense, Mary Patricia Regan Mangan. You deserve everything. Life handed you a bunch of lemons, and like the old saying, you made lemonade. We're just sweetening it, a little bit. Now, I don't want to hear any argument from you. I'm going to accompany you home and meet the boy, and we are both going to tell him about the impending move to Sleepyside."

"Regan, I'll have the limo service run you both out there. Mr. Maypenny and I will go home with my chauffeur, Tom Delanoy. Let me know what happens."

"Sure will, Mr. Wheeler. I can't thank you enough for all that you're doing for my sister and her boy."

"It's benefiting me also, Regan. And in the end, will have a great-looking place to start our horse breeding operation and Daniel will go off to college. I'm sure he and the rest of the BWGs will become great friends."

xxxxxxxx

The Lincoln Town Car looked very out of place in the run-down section of Brooklyn. It was one of those areas where the renaissance and gentrification of the borough had not yet touched. Regan was appalled that his sister was reduced to living in what was little more than a tenement. Vito, the limo driver, ushered them out of the car and whispered to Regan that he would be there, waiting. And woe betides anyone who tried anything. The man looked like a mountain.

"I'm sorry, Liam, the elevator has been out of order for the past six months. We'll have to hoof it up to the fourth floor." Quick color stained Mary Pat's cheeks. Most of the mailboxes were dented or scratched; the whole building stank of cooked onions, curry, and body odor.

"Danny? Honey? I'm home, and I brought a visitor!" My God. Her brother seemed to dwarf the already small apartment.

Dan wanted to play it cool, he really did. But if Ma brought home her sugar daddy, there was going to be a go-round. He may be just a kid, but there were some things that you just had to fight for. Dan stepped out of his room, a belligerent look marring his face. He took two swaggering steps up to his mother and some redheaded guy who seemed familiar.

"Dan, this is my brother, William Patrick Regan. Uncle Bill. Liam, this is mine and Tim's son, Daniel William Regan."

The tall man stuck out a calloused hand. Dan was so flabbergasted by his Ma's introduction, he automatically placed his hand on the one proffered. There was strength in those fingers that touched his briefly, and he flashed back to his Da teaching how to shake hands like a man.

Uncle Bill had the same kind of hands.

"I'm happy to meet you, Dan." The low voice rumbled out, enough to break the spell.

Dan dropped his hand and turned to his Ma. "I thought your brother was missing or dead."

"I ran away from St. Cecelia's," Regan explained. "Your mother and I couldn't find each other. And now, we have."

"Why?" Dan demanded. "Why now?" A look of comprehension dawned on his face. "It's because of me, isn't it?"

Regan gave the boy a measuring look. The kid was angry, hurt, and scared. "Yes. It absolutely has to do with you. Now, let's sit down, and Mary Pat and I will explain the next steps."

"Next steps? Next steps?" Dan exploded. "What right do you have to come into my home and talk about _next steps?"_

Regan opened his mouth, but Mary Patricia jumped right in. In her voice of steel and a look to match, she grew several inches in height, or so it seemed. "Your home? My home, Daniel. My home. I've had just about enough of your cocky attitude. You're in real trouble, in case the fact has escaped you, first offense or no first offense. You're fifteen, and instead of helping me, getting a part-time job, you steal from people. Now, sit down, shut up and listen."

Dan was stunned. His gentle mother was giving rein to that Irish temper, the one she almost never allowed to escape. He was so shocked he meekly turned and plopped down on the worn couch as Regan hid a smile. Now there was his sister, not that tired, timid woman he met outside the coffee shop.

Oh, and she wasn't yet finished. "I am not sure you realize just how much trouble you're in, Daniel. They are going to want to make an example of you under G-Tog. The Legal Aid attorney told me that the prosecutor is going to be grandstanding and demanding a harsh punishment to deter others. Several other shopkeepers have lined up to give testimony how the Cowhands have robbed their stores. It's not looking good. And you dare to sit here on your lazy ass and do nothing but complain? You will listen to what your uncle and I have to say, and if you don't like it, well, you can take your chances in court."

"Take a breath, MP," Regan said sotto voce. "You have an exciting opportunity before you, Dan. I work for Matthew Wheeler. Yes, that Matthew Wheeler," Regan smiled as he saw Dan's startled reaction. "I take care of the horses in his stable in Westchester County. A lovely little town called Sleepyside. Your mother originally contacted me to ask if you could come to live with me. She was willing to give you up for you to have a better life. Just think about that, Daniel."

"I don't want to smell like no stinkin' horses."

"Well, that's good because you won't be coming to live with me," Regan snapped. Nobody insulted his horses, not even this belligerent teenager. "Your mother was offered a wonderful opportunity by Mr. Wheeler, one she has decided to accept."

Mary Pat jumped in. "Mr. Wheeler offered me a job. He bought a rather run-down horse farm in Sleepyside and is going to be renovating it for the next couple of years. Getting it ready so that he and Uncle Bill can go into the horse breeding business together. While the renovations are taking place, he wants me to oversee them and live there, first in the guest house and then in the main house. I'll get a generous salary and be able to finish my teaching certificate!" A delicate bloom of rose touched Mary Pat's cheeks, the first hint of color there in a long while.

Dan noticed right away that he wasn't included in his mother's explanation. "What about me?"

"You'll be living in Sleepyside, too. Just not with your mother or me. You'll be living in the preserve, a heavily-forested tract of land that Matt Wheeler is conserving as rural, natural land. A wonderful man, Thomas Maypenny, has agreed to allow you to live with him in his cabin. He has a horse, Spartan, and I expect to teach you how to ride. Mr. Maypenny is the gamekeeper of the preserve, and you'll be expected to assist him with his chores. You'll attend Sleepyside Junior-Senior High School and be bused in with the rest of the kids in the area. Jim Frayne and Honey Wheeler; Brian, Mart and Trixie Belden; and Diana Lynch with a couple of others. It's a great opportunity, Dan, to turn your life around. Mr. Wheeler and Mr. Lynch are generous men, and the kids travel all over the country on exciting vacations. Sometimes too exciting," Regan muttered under his breath.

"You're pawning me off on some old perverted geezer? What the hell, Ma!"

This time, it was Regan's Irish temper that ignited. "Listen here, you little bastard. You will take this opportunity to help your mother as well as help yourself or expect to spend the next three years in jail. Not juvie, jail. Or didn't your attorney explain that G-Tog doesn't care if you're a first offender or a fiftieth. You're a gang member, Dan. The end. Unless you don't ever want to drop your soap in the shower, I'd take this opportunity. I don't give a damn what you do with your life after you're eighteen. But you damn well will listen now."

"My attorney…"

"Your attorney is overloaded with cases, overworked, fresh out of law school, and even now trying to cut a deal where you only do three years instead of ten. Riker's Island is no place for you. Now, you either shut up and accept, or hope that there is a miracle in court."

"That's not true. That's not true, is it, Ma?" For the first time, the boy paled and wasn't quite as brash.

"It is, Danny. Why do you think I reached out to Liam for help?" Saints alive, she knew the teenage years might be rocky. But not like this. Never like this.

Dan didn't want to admit their words hit him like blows.

He didn't want to admit he was scared. Scared of juvie, but Riker's? The troubled correctional facility had guys that went in and never came out. Or they came out so changed, they were unrecognizable. People got lost in the system there, too. In for a petty crime like parking tickets for years because they couldn't pay their fines.

Luke told him everything would be okay. He told me I'd get a slap on the wrist. He hasn't even been by to see me. None of the Cowhands have.

The first tiny seeds of awareness had been planted.

He shrugged his shoulders, affecting an unconcerned demeanor. "Yeah, whatever. Is that all?"

"That's all for now," Regan replied. Dan stared at the man who was his only other blood relative. He was sure that his Uncle Bill was a tough mutha. Yet, he jumped in defense of his sister, was tender towards her. _What the hell is going on in my life?_

The answer would come in less than two weeks now.

xxxxxxxx

The days leading up to the court appearance flew by. Mary Pat was sorting through their meager belongings in preparation for the move to Sleepyside and stopped working. Mr. Wheeler was advancing her salary, and there was sufficient food on the table, and all the bills were met.

There was even enough left over for her to buy a nice dress for court, and to get Danny an off the rack suit that fit him.

They met with Alexandra Navarro, the attorney Matt Wheeler engaged to replace the Legal Aid one they had originally. Ms. Navarro was petite and slender, with jet black hair, matching eyes, and a beautiful café au lait skin.

And man, she was one tough cookie.

Dan was not very cooperative as usual. It was just a few days before his court appearance, and none of the gang had gotten in touch with him. Not one word, no pebbles being thrown at his window, or even someone climbing up the rickety fire escape.

So much for family.

Ms. Navarro asked Mary Pat if she could have some alone time with Daniel. Embarrassed by her son's attitude, she agreed and went to sit in the reception room.

"What's your problem, man?" Her voice wasn't nice and sweet. It was street tough and nasty. She even looked different. The concern in her eyes had given way to a hard stare. Her relaxed body posture morphed into a fighting stance.

"What do you know about the type of life I've led?" Dan sneered. "Working for a man like Matt Wheeler. Cushy office. I bet your handbag cost more than my suit, my mother's dress, and the monthly rent on our apartment. Yet you sit there and judge me."

"You think you have a corner on suffering, cabrón? You think you're the only one that ever had a hard life? You have a mother who loves you. You have no less than Matthew Wheeler on your side. Yet, you're going to sit there and tell me about the hard life that you have? Let me tell you about a hard life. My Papi could have been any one of a dozen men. All of them spending time in jail. My mother was a crackhead puta who wanted to put me out on the streets when I was 11 so she could have me earn drug money for her. I've slept in places you'd never dream of. Places where men tried molesting me. Places at night where cockroaches swarmed over my body. But you know what the difference between you and me is? I wanted out. So I got out. Do you know what it's like to be really out on the street? From the time I was 11 until the time I graduated high school, I slept at friends' houses, abandoned cars, abandoned buildings… Anywhere I could. Because it was burning in me, in my gut. I could've chosen the easier way. I could've joined a gang. I could've gone out on the street like my mom. I graduated high school, maybe not the valedictorian, but close enough so that I could get a full ride. And when I left for school, I never looked back. You just want someone to feel sorry for you. Every single one of us can lift themselves up, no matter what the circumstances. You always have the choice, Daniel." Ms. Navarro slammed her palm down on the desk startling him. "Remember that. You have a choice here. This sympathy ploy is not going to work with me. Man up, Daniel. Or else you'll be somebody's bitch in Rikers Island."

Dan scrubbed his face, surprised at her words. "Luke told me it's a first offense. He told me I'd just get a slap on the wrist."

"Maybe last year. Or the year before that. But not now. You're close enough to an adult age to be treated like one. The prosecutor wants to move your case out of juvenile court and into adult court. If he does, if you don't take what's being offered, you're going to be taking your chances with the jury. Twelve people, some of whom might have been mugged, raped, or just not like the color of your eyes. And G-Tog has mandatory sentencing. Let me ask you something, Dan. Has this Luke come to see you at all?"

"If he did, you'd tell my probation officer."

"He didn't come. I can tell by your posture and the tone of your voice. Don't you see? You're a weak link. Oh, it's all well and good when you're out there having fun boosting stuff. But don't get caught. Don't ever get caught. Because if you do, you're left back for the lions to devour you. It's natural selection, don't you see? You're going to be held up as an example in the Cowhands. Don't be like Danny boy, get caught, end up in Rikers."

It was true; Dan knew it. There have been other members of the Cowhands that had been arrested. Nobody went to make bail. In fact, they were held up as laughing stocks. They were deemed untrustworthy and unfit to return."But why do we have to leave the city? Why do we have to go to some Podunk town that probably has more horses than people? Why do I have to go with some guy who I don't even know?"

The attorney bit back a sigh. "Your mother wants to finish her teaching degree. She doesn't want to continue to work two and three jobs just to keep a roof over your heads. Most of all, she wants you to get a fresh start, away from temptation, Dan. It's so easy to slide back. I've seen it a million times. You have great intentions but slide back into the more comfortable way. The unknown is scary. I know that. How do you think I felt, leaving New York for college? Me, a girl from the streets. Everything I owned in a backpack and a small suitcase. Yeah, I got a full ride, but that didn't pay for clothes. It didn't pay for the pitying looks I got from other students or the snobbery. What I wanted was more important than anything else. Mr. Maypenny is a wonderful man. Do you think I would accept anyone's word for that? I even went to inspect his home. It's lovely; someplace I'd enjoy myself if I could ever get out of the City."

The walls were closing in on him, and there was nothing he could do about it. Dan affected a scowl. "All right. Whatever. I'll tell you one thing, though. As soon as I am eighteen, I am out of there."

It was Alexandra Navarro's turn to shrug her shoulders. She wasn't going to beg, and she wasn't going to lecture him any longer. Her experienced eyes noted the beneath the defiance in his, scared little boy. This one just might make it out unscathed.

xxxxxxxxx

Mrs. Mangan was asked to return to the conference room, and additional planning for Project Dan commenced.

The proceedings were closed to the public because of Dan's age. He sat next to Ms. Navarro in his suit, feeling like the shirt and tie were choking him. His mother sat directly behind him, and Matt Wheeler, Uncle Bill, and Mr. Maypenny were on her right side.

Across the aisle, the prosecutor, Dale Roof, was fuming. This was the perfect case. A perfect case to get remanded to the criminal courts to treat the perp as the criminal he was. He would have made headlines, and it would've helped his newly announced run for city council. Instead, the little bastard had no less than Matt Wheeler on his side.

What the hell was Matthew Wheeler doing in a courtroom in Brooklyn? And how the hell did he know the perp?

The Honorable Louis Weingarten strode into the room as everyone stood. He glanced around the courtroom, immediately recognizing Wheeler. As the bailiff instructed everyone to be seated, he noted the uncomfortable-looking man next to Wheeler.

"Thomas Maypenny? Lt. Maypenny?" Judge Weingarten looked delighted.

"Your honor," Maypenny replied, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"I'll see you in my chambers after the proceedings." Weingarten was happy to see his old commander, even as he wondered just what the heck the man was doing in his courtroom and the prosecutor gave up.

Sometimes, it was just better to go with the flow.

Alexandra Navarro outlined the plan for Dan's immediate future for the judge. Relocating the boy and his mother to bucolic Sleepyside in Westchester County; the sponsorship of his uncle and Matthew Wheeler; the exciting prospect of the mom obtaining a well-paying job and being able to finish her degree. And then the most important part: Dan would be going to live with Mr. Maypenny who would, to put it bluntly, oversee his rehabilitation.

And that part was the part that most interested Judge Weingarten. It was an unusual situation, to be sure. He would trust the lieutenant with his own life and well-being. Should he also trust Dan's?

Hell, yeah.

Judge Weingarten addressed Mary Patricia Mangan. He could see the signs of suffering still apparent in the woman's eyes. A young widow with a child to raise, doing her best. Orphaned, unable to find her only living relative.

Man, you couldn't write Hallmark Channel dramas that were more gut-wrenching.

"Mrs. Mangan, you understand that if I grant this rather unusual request, Mr. Maypenny will have the final say about Daniel's activities? You won't be giving up your parental rights per se, but you will be giving temporary guardianship of Daniel's person to Thomas Maypenny. That means you cannot interfere in any way unless there are visible signs of abuse. If Dan comes to visit you and complains about living conditions or the fact he has too many chores, you need to step back and realize he is living with Mr. Maypenny and he has the final say."

"I understand, Your Honor." Her voice wasn't meek or hesitant. She understood what was at stake. Although the decision was agonizing, it was for Dan's own good.

And she got something out of it, too. No use in denying that. It wasn't completely altruistic.

Judge Weingarten turned towards Dale Roof. "What has the State to say?"

Roof waited for a beat before speaking. What he really wanted to say was to throw the book at the kid. Make him a shining example. Try him as an adult. He knew what he was up against. Navarro would tie his arguments up in a nanosecond. Wheeler would probably guarantee his entire fortune.

Most of all, the judge was an armed services buddy of the guy who looked like a modern-day version of Grizzly Adams.

"The State is amenable to the program that has been outlined. However, if Daniel returns to the City, to the gang, then at that point, the State will consider him as breaking probation. He will be remanded back to jail and will be tried as an adult."

"Agreed." The judge eyed Dan. "Stand up, young man."

Dan obeyed the order, glancing at the ground.

"Look up, Dan. I don't bite."

Dan lifted his eyes to the judge's stern visage. "You are getting an extraordinary chance at a new life. There are hundreds, probably thousands of kids right now in the five boroughs that would give their left arm to be where you are. I'm sure that your attorney advised you that there were some witnesses willing to testify about not only your criminal activity but that of the Cowhands. That would not have played well in front of a jury. Now Dan, let me advise you that Mr. Maypenny will be acting in in loco parentis. That means in place of your parent. For all intents and purposes, this Court will consider Thomas Maypenny as your official guardian. Now, that does not mean you can't have any contact with your mother. You and your mom can have unlimited visitation. However, there will not be any overnight stays, nor will you be allowed to visit without the consent of Mr. Maypenny. You will be enrolled in school in Sleepyside, and you will remain in school until graduation. You will consider yourself under probation until you reach the age of 18. If there are no black marks against you, you will be released from probation, and I hope to see you go to college."

"As Prosecutor Roof has stated, if you violate your probation by skipping school, running away, or getting into criminal activity in Sleepyside, you may be remanded back to custody here. If you rejoin the Cowhands, that will be cause for your immediate arrest, and you will be charged as an adult under G-Tog. Do you understand these terms?"

"Yes, sir." He wanted to scream and rail. They were taking him away from everyone and everything he knew. Even his mother was bailing on him. But what good would it do? He'd be marked incorrigible and sent to Rikers.

"Mr. Maypenny, do you understand the seriousness of the agreement made? You will be responsible for this young man, to ensure that he is following the strictures of his probation. You will need to treat him with kindness tempered by discipline. Are you willing to abide by the Court's decision?"

"Yes, Your Honor." As ever, Maypenny was a man of few words.

"Then this Court considers this matter adjudicated as outlined. Daniel, you will immediately leave with Mr. Maypenny once he meets with me in my chambers for a brief period of time." Judge Weingarten slammed his gavel just like on Judge Judy.

"But I have stuff to get at home!"

"Danny, there's nothing in our apartment right now. Mr. Wheeler was so kind as to have the movers pick up everything while we were here at court. Even now, our things are on their way to Sleepyside. I'll wait with you here while Mr. Maypenny speaks with the judge." The truth was it was hard to say goodbye to her only child and any stolen moments until their final parting was bittersweet.

Fifteen minutes later, Mr. Maypenny returned from his reunion with Judge Weingarten. Matt Wheeler, Regan, and Mary Pat were going back with Mr. Wheeler's chauffeur. Dan was going back with Mr. Maypenny in his rather ancient pickup truck.

The little group stood in front of the courthouse. Matt, Regan, Mr. Maypenny, and Alexandra Navarro were off to one side as Mary Pat and Daniel faced off. It was goodbye, maybe just for a little while, but goodbye nonetheless.

Mary Pat went to embrace her son, but he stepped back. His rage was boiling in him. Da would not have done this! Da would never hand him over to a stranger, send him out somewhere in the woods.

He ignored that little voice that reminded him his father would have insisted he do jail or juvie time. Tim Mangan, for all the adventures he and Mary Pat had when they were younger, knew the dangers of the street. It's not something he would have wished for his son.

Mary Pat was stung. Her mother's heart broke, shattered into ever tinier pieces. It cracked when she had to leave her brother behind in the orphanage. More splintery lines appeared when they couldn't find Liam. It fell to pieces when Tim died, and when Dan got in trouble. And now, he was repudiating her.

Could a person survive like that? Maybe it wasn't the heart beating in her chest, although it felt like it. Could one survive without the focal point that kept the soul alive?

"I know you hate me now, Daniel. I hope someday we can look back at this and not laugh, but so that you'll understand." She wouldn't cry in front of him.

 _"What. Ever."_

xxxxxx

Across the street from the steps leading to the courthouse, people kept far away from the guy leaning against the lamppost. He may have just been a kid, but the black leather jacket, scruffy jeans, and low-heeled cowboy boots telegraphed his affiliation with a gang. His eyes were trained on the little group standing on the stairs, observing them with an intentness that was almost scary. Luke smoked his cigarette right down to the nub and tossed it carelessly in the street.

He watched as Dan's mother got into a stretch limousine with a couple of guys. Dan, however, gotten to an old beater with a geezer who looked like he was as old as dirt. Still, the limo? Dan and his mother must've stepped into shit.

And Luke figured Dan owed him. Things were hot on their turf because of Dan's arrest and the attention it brought to the Cowhands. Yeah, maybe he'd make a little foray to Dan's neighborhood. See if anyone knew what his old friend Dan was up to, and maybe get some of money for himself.

xxxxxxxxx

It did not appear to perturb Thomas Maypenny one whit that the other side of the sagging bench seat in Ol' Lizzy was occupied by a sulky teenage boy. Dan Mangan was pressed up against the door, bottom lip out, a sneer distorting his good-looking face.

Mr. Maypenny did not speak until they were out of the city traffic. It suited Dan just fine. He didn't have anything to say, anyway. However, as soon as they broke away into a less congested area, Maypenny startled him by initiating a conversation.

"While we are driving back to Sleepyside, I thought I'd lay out a few ground rules for you, Dan." He didn't wait for Dan to respond. He knew he wouldn't.

"My house is surrounded by Mr. Wheeler's nature preserve. There are acres and acres of land in its natural state. Wheeler wanted me to sell him my property, but I ain't about to give it up. Now, I want you to realize that while it is beautiful, calming, and mostly peaceful, it can be a very dangerous place. There are bear, catamounts, coyotes, and deer. These creatures are normally nocturnal; however, if there is food available, they may scavenge in the daytime. It's most important that you do not leave any kind of foodstuffs lying around outside.

"Also, the preserve itself is enormous and very easy to get lost in. Part of it is called the labyrinth, and there's a good reason for it being named that. I'm the gamekeeper there, I been living there all my life, yet, there are parts that I'm not even sure of. Stick to the trails. I haven't been able to mark all of them yet.

"Regan will probably give you riding lessons. You can use my horse, Spartan. He's a good old boy, gentle mouth. It's easier to get around in the preserve when you become more familiar if you're on horseback. I will expect that you will help me maintain the trails in the feeding stations. Mr. Wheeler does hunt and allows some of his neighbors to do the same.

"You will have your own bedroom and bathroom. I expect that you will keep everything neat and clean. We'll divide the chores up. Much as I hate to admit it, I am getting older, and I need help chopping wood and clearing the trails.

"You'll be taking a bus to school with the other kids. All you have to do is follow the driveway to Glen Road. The bus will pick you up. Occasionally, Brian Belden drives everyone to school. If you become friends with them, I'm sure he'll give you a ride, too.

"The Wheelers live in a big house upon the Hill called Manor House. It's a local showplace. They have a large lake on the property with a dock and a boathouse. A few hundred feet out is a float. The kids all swim there during the summer and ice skate during the winter. Matt and Madeline Wheeler have a daughter, Honey, who is as sweet as her name implies. They also have an older son, Jim Frayne, who they adopted not too long ago.

"Our next nearest neighbors are the Beldens. Helen and Peter. They have four children, Brian, Mart, Trixie, and the young rapscallion, Bobby. Apart from Bobby, the kids are all around your age. They have a club in the old gatehouse called the Bobwhites of the Glen. They're really good kids who do a lot of charity work and have a lot of adventures. I hope you get to know them better.

"Your mom will be living several miles away. Jed Tomlinson is a good man; just let his house and stables go to pot. I'm glad Mr. Wheeler purchased his place and will restore it to one of the premier horse breeding operations in the area. We will make arrangements when you can go and see your mom. I'm sure that Mr. Wheeler will provide a car for her, too. Now, do you have any questions that you want to ask me?"

Dan did. He had a million of them, all roiling around in his brain. What about ticks? He heard they carried some nasty diseases. Was there a phone at this place? Was the bathroom inside? What was the difference between these hick kids having a gang called the BWGs and the Cowhands? Dan wasn't about to give this old man the pleasure of giving him more instructions, more rules.

"None."

Mr. Maypenny grinned. The kid thought himself such a hard case. Well, we'll see about that! The first time he hears a catamount or coyote howl, he'll come runnin' with those questions.

xxxxxx

In the limo, silence reigned for a while until Mary Pat was able to control her emotions. It wouldn't do to cry like an idiot in front of her new boss. When she felt her voice wouldn't shake, she turned to Matt Wheeler and her brother.

"I can't thank you both enough for what you are doing for Dan and me."

Mr. Wheeler waved a freckled hand. "Nonsense. You're helping me, too." He picked up a folder lying next to him, passed it to Mary Pat. "The photos inside are of the old Tomlinson place. I wanted you to see it before we got there. Of course," he mused. "We can't keep calling it the old Tomlinson place. We'll have to come up with a new name."

"Wheegan Stables?" Mary Pat suggested.

"No, it sounds like someone can't say Regan. I already have enough of the Ray-gun, Ree-gun thing," Regan muttered.

Mary Pat was leafing through the folder of pictures Mr. Wheeler had handed her. It was true; the place was in sad condition. Most of the paddocks would need to be re-fenced. The stables would probably have to be rebuilt from the ground up.

The house itself was a sprawling American farmhouse style, with a wraparound, deep porch. It had cedar shakes, weathered to a deep, dirty gray. Parts of the gutter were hanging down. The windows were filthy; the old-style grills peeling and cracking.

In the back of the main house was a guest house in much better shape than the main place. Mary Pat guessed correctly that the former owner decamped to the guest house when the main house began to deteriorate. "It's got good bones, though," she murmured, looking at the wreck of a house. It was set back on from the intersection of Glen Road and Old Albany Post Road. "How about Glen Hollow Farm?"

"I like it!" Matt Wheeler exclaimed, delighted. "What about you, Regan?"

"It's good. Not too cutesy. Thanks, MP."

Mr. Wheeler and Regan then began to point out all the changes to be made to the place. The construction would be extensive and take the better part of two years. Once the stable and paddocks were completed, the workmen would then move on to the main house and finally the guest house. "The architect has designed a lovely space, not only for people but for the horses."

Matt turned to Mary Pat. "Do you know how to drive?"

"Yes, I do. I haven't driven much since Tim passed. We had a little VW bug he taught me how to drive in. Darn thing leaked!" Oh, the fun of those days, with her lurching the old car through school parking lots, trying to understand gears. It died just around the same time Tim did.

"We'll be providing you with a car, Mrs. Mangan. You'll need to get around. The guest house has been fully refreshed, new furniture, an office, and a computer. You'll be hooked up to cable television there, too. In return, you'll be my eyes and ears for the construction project, a sort-of on-site supervisor. Oh, and I've also arranged for you to finish up your degree via online college." Matt's voice became gentle. "Regan will show you around town. Of course, Dan may visit you there, or you may visit Dan. His school records have already been transferred to the high school. All he has to do is report tomorrow."

And just like that, seriously, just like that, Mary Pat stepped into a world where one man could change everything.

xxxxxxx

Regan and Mary Pat were dropped off at Glen Hollow Farm by the Wheelers' chauffeur. Before she exited the limo, Mr. Wheeler pressed a set of keys into her hand, explaining that Celia, Tom's wife, had been there to meet the movers. "I know it seems overwhelming and maybe even scary, out here in the sticks," Matt Wheeler empathized. "Sleepyside is a friendly community with a low crime rate. Most folks don't even lock their doors, but I wouldn't suggest going that far. The Jeep is parked near the guesthouse, and the keys are inside the house, Mrs. Mangan."

"Mary Pat. Please, call me Mary Pat." How could she thank this man, this stranger, who was giving her and Danny a chance at a better life?

"Mary Pat." When Matt smiled, his whole face lit up.

As they walked around back to the guest house, Mary Pat took stock of her surroundings. The place was run down. It still wasn't as bad as some of the places she and Tim had lived in. It was just… big. Open. Intimidating.

"I'll be spending the next couple of nights with you here, MP," Regan said. "Just until you get used to everything and get settled in. I need to use the car to check on the horses before we turn in tonight, and tomorrow I'll tell the kids to care for them."

"Oh, Liam, you don't have to," she demurred, but he steamrolled right over her.

"I know that. But you're my sister. And the only one in the world who calls me Liam."

"And you're the only one who calls me MP."

"It's all we had at St. Cecelia's that was really only ours, wasn't it?"

Mary Pat nodded. So far away, those days seemed so far away. Her eyes filled with tears, and her brother noticed immediately. Panicking at the thought of a woman's tears, he jumped right into the pregnant pause.

"C'mon, I'll show you the house, and we can get some of your things put away." Although that wouldn't take long. A few boxes of her meager belongings were stacked in a corner.

xxxxxxxxxx

Spider Webster was on night patrol. It was a duty that had a double-edge. The night was peaceful, the roads quiet, and it gave a man time to reflect. On the other hand, it meant leaving his brother, Tad, alone. Well, not really alone any longer since they were staying with Mrs. Vanderpoel.

Still, however wonderful their landlady was, he felt guilty that Tad was there, and they were imposing on her good nature. Tad was his charge now, and he was making a mull of it. He was sure their parents were rolling over in their graves so hard, it was registering on the Richter Scale.

Tad. The sibling he never thought he would have. He was fifteen when his parents were surprised by a late in life pregnancy. He was eighteen and in the Police Academy when their parents were mowed down in New York City by a driver who suffered a stroke and drove into a crowd of shoppers. Tad escaped with barely a scratch, but Spider had to bury their parents and take charge of a three-year-old.

It hadn't been easy.

He had to sell the family home to get enough money together for a small apartment in town and to pay for daycare for Tad. His days were spent learning to become a policeman, and his nights were spent with a bewildered toddler who just wanted Mama and Papa.

They muddled through, however, as their brotherly bond grew stronger. When Mrs. Vanderpoel stepped in to offer a home, Spider was relieved. For as much as Molinson muttered about Trixie Belden and the rest of the Bob-Whites, he respected them.

Even if he wouldn't admit it.

Having Tad near the group meant that their good influence may rub off on him. Maybe he'd even become the seventh Bob-White!

Spider's head was full of these thoughts and more as he cruised the dark streets of the outer fringes of Sleepyside. He kept a wary eye out for deer and other nocturnal creatures, including bears. He was just about to turn onto Glen Road when he noticed it.

Now that's odd. I thought the old Tomlinson place was vacant. He caught the glimmer of light in the guesthouse. Matt Wheeler had asked the force to keep an eye on the place once he purchased it from the old man. Spider knew that Wheeler filed plans with the zoning board to practically raze the place and rebuild it.

There were no secrets in a small town.

He cut his lights on the cruiser and coasted into the driveway, his adrenalin beginning to pump. Yeah, there is a light.

"Dispatch? Webster here. I'm stepping away from the car to investigate some suspicious activity at the old Tomlinson place."

"10-4, Webster."

Spider crept around the side of the decrepit main house. He was right. The guest house did have a light on. There were some boxes and other items stacked by the side of the porch as if someone was taking their time and gutting the place.A figure exited the place with a few boxes and added them to the untidy pile. Spider unsnapped his holster, flicked off the safety on his gun and flashed his light right into the perp's face.

"Halt right there! Police! Hands up!"

Mary Pat shrieked loud enough to echo through the little hollow. She threw her hands up in the air, dropping the box she was holding. "Don't shoot! Don't shoot!"

A woman. Spider never expected a woman. But hell, they were just as many female criminals as they were male he supposed. "Turn around slowly to face me and don't make any sudden moves."

She turned around to face him, and he nearly dropped his gun. She was a pretty little thing, all big, scared eyes. "Yes sir," she said meekly as she stared down the barrel of the gun held by the handsome young officer.

"What are you doing here, in that house? This is private property you know. Who are you?"

"My name is Mary Patricia Mangan. I know Mr. Matt Wheeler owns this house. My brother works for him. Mr. Wheeler has asked me to live here and take charge of the construction that's about to begin shortly."

"Who's your brother?" Spider asked, suspicious. He knew Tom Delanoy very well, he was from town, and he had three strapping brothers. Not a girl in the bunch.

"William Regan. He takes care of Mr. Wheeler's horses."

Spider was astonished. "Regan? I thought he was an orphan." Yeah, there was a family resemblance there.

"We were both orphans," Mary Pat interjected gently. "Liam and I, well, we were estranged for years." She shivered in the cold. "Officer, if you have any more questions to ask me, please, can we go indoors? I'm freezing out here."

Just then, Regan drove up, hopping out of the car when he saw Spider holstering his weapon. "Spider? What's going on here? I saw your cruiser in the driveway? Is my sister okay?"

"Everything's okay, Liam. The officer here saw a light on and decided to investigate. He scared the life out of me though!" She shivered again. "Please, can we take this inside?"

"Come in for a cup of coffee, Spider," Regan offered. "I know you have a long night ahead of you."

"Be right there, just let me call in to dispatch and let them know I'm going on break."

A short while later, the trio was sitting at the kitchen table. The kitchen in the guesthouse wasn't large, but to Mary Pat, it seemed like a mansion. She had to laugh a little when her brother had to show her how to use the Keurig.

"Spider?" She raised her fine eyebrows at the officer sitting directly across from her. Her long fingers were wrapped around the hot cup of coffee, warming them.

"Spider Webster. I don't think anybody knows his real name," Regan laughed.

Spider relaxed back against the chair, glancing at Mary Pat's hands. No wedding ring there. Maybe she was divorced. "Believe it or not, Spider is my real name. My father actually wanted to name me Spider-Man Webster. They compromised with Spider."

Regan broke out into a hearty laugh. "Well, at least Tad has a semi-normal name."

"Is Tad your son?" Mary Pat asked. If Spider was checking her out, she was doing the same. It had been many years, too many to remember since she had been physically interested in a man. He wasn't wearing a ring, either. But she knew that many policemen and firemen didn't wear wedding rings as they were afraid the objects may get caught on something."

"My little brother. Our parents died in an accident, and I've been raising Tad." Just then Spider's chest radio went off.

"Dispatch to Unit 6,"

"Unit 6 here. Go."

"See the girl at Crabapple Farm." No need for names. Everyone in town knew who the girl was.

Trixie Belden.

Spider wanted to get to know Mary Pat a little better. But, as usual, duty called. "I gotta go, guys, sorry." He knew what this was about. Trixie and Honey had busted the Thompson gang, and she had her signed statement ready. "I'll see myself out." He paused, and then went for it. "Sorry I frightened you before, Mary Pat."

"Just doing your job."

"See you around."

Regan looked at the glances the two were sharing and grinned. They had no idea they were telegraphing their interest in each other to the world.


	2. Chapter 2

Dan was in his room at old Maypenny's. He was expecting a log cabin much as the one Lincoln was born in. Instead, he found a rustic but well-built house, cedar shakes that were hand-hewn, and a large porch with several Adirondack rockers.

About fifty feet away was the stable and barn. There was a small paddock, and Dan heard the nicker of a horse as they alighted from the truck. "That's old Spartan, welcoming us back home," Maypenny remarked. "Let me show you the house and your room."

The spacious inside impressed Dan, but he remained silent. Mr. Maypenny's furnishings were simple and sturdy. You could almost have fit the Brooklyn apartment in the kitchen alone.

"This here's your room, Dan." Mr. Maypenny opened the door to a nice-sized bedroom. There was a double bed with a wedding-ring quilt on it. "My mother made the quilt," he added, his voice quiet. There were a couple of watercolors of the preserve on the wall. "Helen Belden, one of our neighbors, painted the pictures. I made the furniture."

The room also contained a tall chest, nightstand, and a small desk and chair. "That door there is to your bathroom. There's also a door in the hall. My room is on the other side of the bathroom, and I have a separate bath area. You can put away your things, and I'll warm up some stew."

Dan didn't say anything. He wanted to. He wanted to say how amazed he was at the old man's skills. He wanted to like his room with the homey touches.

But it wouldn't be cool to do so.

After Mr. Maypenny left. Dan flopped down on the bed, stretching his arms and legs out. A real bed instead of a ratty sofabed. A spacious room, all his own.

Maybe this gig wouldn't be so bad after all.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

Back in New York City, the borough of Brooklyn to be exact, on a street that not yet been gentrified, an older boy, not yet a man, was talking to a young girl sitting on a stoop. She was thrilled that one of the Cowhands was taking an interest in her. A gang member, the leader. Maybe she could become his girlfriend.

Luke Allred knew exactly the effect he was having on the girl. He knew exactly how to use her to get what he needed. Bitches were all alike. Give 'em a little flattery, look at them as if they were the most beautiful thing ever, and man, you could hit the jackpot. Sex, drugs, or in this case, information.

"… his mother told my mother that they were movin' to some little town upstate. She got a job at this horse place, but my old lady told me that Dan's mother is a city girl and what does she know about horses? I just think she was jealous. But Dan's gotta go live in the middle of a stupid forest with bears and stuff with some old geezer who is supposed to straighten him out. Like, he'll probly get ate by a bear or… or a deer or somethin'."

Luke reached out and played with one of the curls tangled around the girl's face. "Ya don't say." He rolled his eyes. Even he knew a person didn't get eaten by deer.

"Yeah, some big limo came to pick them up. Danny didn't look so happy, though. He tol' me to tell you if you came around he was goin' to someplace called… uh…"

Luke's fingers tightened around the curls, and he tugged. Hard. "Where did he go?" His voice didn't sound all soft and rumbly sexy as it did a minute ago. He sounded dangerous as a chill ran down her spine.

"Ow! That hurts!" She stopped her complaining when she saw the look in his eyes. Dead and black, like the fish her mother brought home sometimes. "Sleepyside. He went to Sleepyside."

Luke released her hair and charmed her again with a smile. "Thanks, Lucia."

She frowned at his back as he sauntered away, calling after him. "Mia. My name is Mia."

He shrugged his shoulders, not bothering to turn around. "Whatever."

xxxxxxxxxx

Spider Webster was thankful he didn't have to pull a double. He grabbed a cup of decaf and muffin from Wimpy's, scarfed it down and headed home. Tad would be getting up and ready for school, and Mrs. Vanderpoel would be bustling around the kitchen, getting breakfast ready. She knew he really didn't like to eat in the morning after night shift so it would be something nourishing for her and Tad.

The trip home didn't take long. Not long at all. He was tired but full of questions about Mary Pat Mangan. Not the is she a criminal type of questions, but more along the man and woman type of questions. Why did he take her so long to get in touch with Regan?

She had a different last name. Was she divorced? From a different dad? How did Matt Wheeler get involved in all of this? Where had she been all this time? Man, he was getting as bad as Trixie Belden and Honey Wheeler.

It had been a long time since he was interested in that way in a female. It wasn't that he wasn't looking, but the nature of his job had made it difficult to form a connection. Oh yeah, there were the badge bunnies, looking to latch on to anything in a uniform. All they wanted was the prestige of being a police officer's wife, and later, being a police officer's ex-wife.

His job, the danger, the odd hours, tons of overtime, and the fact that he had a younger brother who was his responsibility seem to scare the girls away. At least, the type of girl that he would want to get involved with.

There was something about that Mary Pat Mangan that just touched him. Maybe it was those greenish eyes, not as intensely green as Regan's or even Jim Frayne's, but arresting, nonetheless. They seemed to swirl with secrets and sadness. What had happened in her life to put that there?

He entered the kitchen, aromatic with the delicious breakfast Mrs. Vanderpoel was preparing. He leaned down to give her a kiss on her plump cheek and watched as his brother set the kitchen table for them both. She was good for Tad, a motherly influence more able to teach him social graces than a tired, crabby cop.

He cuffed Tad on the arm. "Be good in school today, little brother. Make me proud."

Tad gave him a light tap on the arm. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever." He rolled his eyes. His face softened as he looked at the man who was more parent to him than his real parents, whom he could barely remember. "Get some sleep, big brother." Grinning he continued, "Because you never know when that Trixie Belden is going to take your job."

Spider had to grin. "Take my job? She and Honey Wheeler will probably be running the entire state before they're 21."

A short while later, one hot shower and a waiting featherbed saw Spider crash with a grateful smile. Before sleep claimed him, he again wondered if that hot sister of Regan's was involved with anyone.

xxxxxxxx

Regan left long before Mary Pat awoke. They talked for a couple of hours, getting to know the adult versions of each other. While Regan was familiar with MP's past, the only things she knew about him were that he ran away from the orphanage and now he worked for the mega-wealthy Wheelers.

How did he get from there to here?

It wasn't easy, he explained. He hated the orphanage without her. Regan took off, working upstate at small family farms. In the year since MP left the orphanage with Tim Mangan, Regan grew and grew. It was easy for him to pass as eighteen.

He worked under the table, as they say; doing whatever had to be done, reacquainting himself with horses. They had been devastated when their family farm was destroyed by fire and the horses sold to pay debt. Like most small farms, their parents mortgaged it to the hilt.

"I ended up in Saratoga, MP," he explained. "Working with thoroughbreds."

"They should have called you the Horse Whisperer instead of that guy who they did. You always had a special connection with them."

"I guess so." Regan grinned. "You still remember how to ride?"

"It's like falling off a horse," she giggled. "I haven't been on a horse in years," she admitted, wistful.

"Well, we have plenty over at Manor House. And they all need regular exercise. I'll reintroduce you to the joys of riding."

"What about Danny? I wonder how he's doing, over at Mr. Maypenny's. I really miss him, Liam. I hope I made the correct decision."

"I have no problems teaching Dan. Honey is an experienced equestrian, but I've had to teach the rest of the kids how to ride. I know he's your son, MP, but really, you don't have to worry. Thomas Maypenny is the salt of the earth type of guy."

"What made you leave Saratoga and come here? I would think it would be more exciting taking care of thoroughbreds rather than being a groom, even for someone as nice as Mr. Wheeler."

Regan looked sad, then a spark of anger ignited in his eyes. "It's a long, not so nice story, MP. I was… I was accused of doping a racehorse. I did not do it. I would never, never administer drugs to an animal like that. They didn't have enough proof to prosecute me, and I didn't have enough proof to prove my innocence. But, I knew even the whisper of the scandal would kill my chances in the racing world. Matt Wheeler had met me a couple times. He was purchasing Manor House and building a stable. He asked me if I would come to work for him, and I agreed. Working for Mr. Wheeler has allowed me to pursue my dreams of getting a college education and someday being a partner with him in a breeding operation."

Mary Pat grew fierce. "Of course, you didn't do that, Liam! I'm surprised they thought it of you. You should go back and clear your name."

"Someday, MP."

"It seems like this Matt Wheeler has been an angel for us both."

"Yes, he has. He's an extremely generous man to those he cares about. I can't tell you how many times he's taken the kids on trips and such. Speaking of the kids, I want to take you around in a couple days to meet everyone. Dan will probably be hanging out with them once he gets settled in."

"Tell me about them." God. She hoped they would be a better influence on him than Luke Allred.

"Well, Mr. Wheeler has two children. Honey is about 14 years old and just as sweet as her name implies. Or nickname I should say. She's not one of those do-nothing heiresses. She knows how to cook and sew. James Winthrop Frayne the second is the son of the house. Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler adopted him. He is the son of one of Mr. Wheeler's childhood friends. He's a great guy, an expert horseman, and I think Dan will have a lot in common with him. He was orphaned at an early age. His father died of cancer, and his mother remarried this brute of a man. She also died of cancer two or three years later in the stepfather abused Jim unmercifully."

"Oh, the poor boy!"

"He eventually ran away and found his way to Sleepyside. There was a whole lot of intrigue going on but suffice it to say he ended up being the heir to a fortune."

"I think I read about that in the papers."

"Yes, it was a rags to riches story. You don't hear too much about it anymore because neither Honey nor Jim are the kind of kids to flaunt their wealth. Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler consider Jim their son just as much as Honey is their daughter."

"And the rest of the kids?"

"Crabapple Farm sits in another hollow not too far from Manor House. Peter and Helen Belden have four children. Brian is the eldest boy, about a year older than Jim, even though they're in the same grade. He's a great kid, wants to be a doctor more than anything else in the world. Very responsible and honorable. Then there's Mart, he's 15. He's the joker of the bunch, and we all think he may have swallowed a dictionary at some point. Loves big words! The youngest son is Bobby; he's around six or seven and regularly gets into all kinds of innocent trouble. He is a scamp. Finally, there's Trixie. She's 14 years old, pretty as a picture and as smart as a whip. She regularly leads the rest of the BWGs on adventures, and I have to be honest, some danger. She and Honey want to be detectives, and I tell you, I think their partnership will rival anything that Arthur Conan Doyle ever dreamed up for Sherlock Holmes."

"Oh, my, you would think there wouldn't be much going on around here to involve detectives."

"You'd be surprised! Jim Frayne and Trixie Belden are a thing. Of course, she's too young to date, but I wouldn't be surprised if they got married in the future. Sometimes, you just meet your soulmate at a young age. Rounding out the BWGs is Diana Lynch. Her parents are Ed and Sharon Lynch, also very wealthy. She has two sets of twins as brother and sister. Larry and Terry are about Bobby's age and just as much a terror as he is. The other set of twins are Arielle and Aurora. I always felt sorry for Mrs. Lynch, because, man, what a brood! Diana is gorgeous in a movie star sort of way. But she's as beautiful inside as she is outside, and she is definitely Mart's girl."

"Do you think they'll accept Dan? I mean, he was a member of a gang. He's probably done things that these kids wouldn't dream of. I hope their parents are accepting of him as well." MP bit her lip.

"Oh, I don't doubt that Trixie will be suspicious of him from the get-go. But once he proves himself, she'll be the best friend he ever had. The rest of them are not quite as wary. One of her brothers once remarked that she sees criminals lurking behind every tree. The problem as I see it, is that she's usually right!"

MP busied herself placing the coffee mugs in the sink. She wanted to ask her brother about Spider Webster but knew that he would tease her unmercifully. Instead, she asked about Tad Webster.

"What about that nice officer's brother, the one he spoke about last night?"

"Tad Webster? He's not a BWG. He's a good kid though. He'll be on the bus with the rest of them. I think he'll be accepting of Dan; he's another kid who lost his parents. Spider's done a good job with him. Now that they're living with Mrs. Vanderpoel, I know Spider is relieved that he doesn't have to leave his little brother in an empty house when he's on the night shift." Regan narrowed his eyes at his sister, adding a little fuel to the fire. "Spider needs to go out some, have some fun. He's been taking care of Tad since he was three years old. Spider missed out on all that wild and crazy stuff you get to do in your teens."

"Well, I hope he gets to do so." MP didn't add her other thought. She hoped he'd get to do so with her.

Her eyes widened, and her mouth bowed into an O. Now, where did that thought come from?

xxxxxx

He hated it.

Dan hated the school, the kids, the teachers.

He hated everything.

Mr. Maypenny drove him to school that first day, took him inside to the office, and dumped him there like a pile of trash. Everyone appeared all bright-eyed, helpful, and all looking like real dooshkabobs.

He'd never make it through the next two years here. He'd drown in a sea of milk, apple pies, and Chevrolets.

I'm built for boilermakers, steaks, and Harley Davidsons.

He wore his colors that day. Black jacket with the bright white lettering. The Cowhands. A mean lookin' branding iron seared the name into the leather, or so it seemed. The cute little girl assigned to take him to all his classes swallowed once when she saw him, paling at the sight of a real gang member.

Dan hated the stupid locker, hated the books, hated the whispers in the hall when he passed. Hated being the cynosure of all eyes. To cover his nervousness, he swaggered down the halls, cowboy boots clicking on the linoleum floors. And somehow that bravado carried him through the day.

Old Maypenny picked him up. Tomorrow, the bus would stop at the end of the long driveway to Maypenny's cabin.

And wouldn't that be fun?

xxxxx

"New kid in school today," Tad remarked over a mouthful of windmill cookie. Spider was getting ready to go on the night shift, and these few hours were precious to them both.

"Really? Don't eat so many cookies, Tad. You'll spoil dinner."

Tad rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. Anyway, everyone was buzzing about the new guy. Dan… Dan something. It seems he was a gang member in the City, or that's the rumor. He's living with Mr. Maypenny."

It was then Spider put it together. Molinson had informed the force that a gang member was being sent to Sleepyside for rehabilitation. A boy on the cusp of manhood. The kid hadn't done anything like murder someone, and he wasn't sociopathic. Just a boy in need of some direction.

Or so Molinson said.

And the boy's name was Dan Mangan.

"He didn't say much, just walked around looking out of place and angry. Scared, too," Tad mused.

"I think I met his mother over at the old Tomlinson place. Mr. Wheeler hired her to look after the place while the construction is going on."

"Trixie was suspicious. I heard her whispering with Honey in the cafeteria."

It was Spider's turn to roll his eyes. "When is Trixie not suspicious? I swear Mother Teresa could have come here to Sleepyside and Trixie would have thought she was smuggling in diamonds under her habit."

Tad barked out a laugh, spraying a little windmill cookie on the table. "True."

Spider hesitated. "Tad, be careful around him."

Tad glanced at his brother, saw the concern in his brown eyes. "Don't worry. I think our Ms. Belden is far more dangerous than Dan."

Spider opened his mouth to retort when Mrs. Vanderpoel came bustling into the kitchen. "Come on, men. Dinner is being served."

xxxxxxx

The whole cabin stunk like the convent of St. Michael's on Friday. Fish! Dan rolled his eyes. He would have much rather more of the delicious hunter's stew Mr. Maypenny dished up last night. At least it was meat and potatoes and some green bits.

Dan was working in his room, trying to cover the books handed out in school today. He stared at the stack on his desk. It was a good thing Maypenny picked him up today. His book bag must've weighed 75 pounds.

He kicked, just a little bit, at the side of his desk. All the other kids in school had cool book covers and here he was trying to make do with old paper bags. Man, what the hell! Was he back in the 60s?

The old man called from the kitchen that dinner was ready and to wash up. That was another thing. He didn't have to be reminded to wash up. He wasn't six years old anymore. Dan did so anyway and joined Mr. Maypenny at the rustic farmhouse table.

"Trout, caught fresh from the lake. It's best made simple, Dan. You'll find that in life a lot. A little bit of Italian seasoning, a few sprinkles of chopped parsley from the herb garden, and some garlic lemon butter. That's it. Put a couple of baby potatoes in the tin foil and bake. A simple and filling meal and it didn't cost an arm and a leg."

"The lake? I didn't see a lake around here." Dan scooped up several fillets along with the tender potatoes. It really did smell delicious, even if it was fish.

"It's further in the preserve, up towards Manor House. That's the Wheelers' mansion up on the top of the hill. Matt Wheeler has it stocked with trout occasionally, but wild trout are plentiful around here, too."

"Is it a man-made lake?"

"Nope. It's fed by surrounding streams and a spring. The Wheelers have a boathouse on it as well as a deck and pier. There's also a float several hundred feet out in the lake. The kids go swimming in the summer and in the winter, if it's cold enough, the lake freezes over, and they go ice skating."

Dan's ears perked up at that. "Ice skating?" That was one thing he did and did well. His mother and father used to go all the time. It was free and fun, and Dan found he had a natural talent for speedskating.

"Yes. You'd do well to try and make friends with the BWGs, Dan. Those kids are always having great adventures. Right now, I think they're planning some sort of carnival to help kids affected by the earthquake in Mexico."

He didn't say anything, just scooped up another forkful. Yeah, just what he needed. Hanging around a bunch of goody two shoes. Before you know it, he'd be wearing black horn-rimmed glasses, shirts with little alligators on them, and khaki pants that were too short at the ankle.

Cowhands were the bomb. While all the rest of them here geek out, his home was New York City, and he was going to go back, come hell or high water.

xxxxxx

The next few days were full as everyone settled into their new roles. Mary Pat cried herself to sleep several times, wanting to see Dan but knowing he had to adjust to his new status. Regan was back at the stables full-time, taking care of the five horses housed there.

Mary Pat was slowly transforming the guesthouse into a welcoming home. Mr. Wheeler and his charming wife Maddie stopped by with the architectural plans for the farm. It surely was going to be a showplace once all the construction was completed.

Mary Pat couldn't help but be awed by the grace and beauty of Madeleine Wheeler. She almost expected the socialite to be dressed in a designer gown with a 10-foot train. However, Mrs. Wheeler was wearing a pair of jeans – designer, to be sure – and a red plaid flannel shirt with a quilted vest over it. No doubt both latter items probably cost more than her week's wages.

Mr. Wheeler also helped her enroll in SUNY online. The office in the guesthouse had a state-of-the-art desktop computer system, and Mr. Wheeler provided her with a laptop. "You can take a few courses online to catch up," he told her. "When the fall session begins, you'll be able to go to campus to finish up your degree."

It was almost too much. Quick tears spurted into her eyes, and she began to thank him. Always at a loss with a woman in tears, Maddie quickly pushed Matt out of the room and turned to Regan's sister. So alike, yet so different. "Men can never handle tears, even when they're joyous ones. Mary Pat, we wouldn't do this unless we had confidence in you. It's not charity, you know. Everyone at times needs a helping hand. Not a handout, but a hand up. I needed it myself, not in any material way. I had more than enough, but I didn't have my daughter. Trixie Belden, indeed, the rest of the Beldens, provided that hand up."

"Helen Belden is so pretty and nice. She came over yesterday with the most astonishing cheesecake. Just to welcome me to the neighborhood, she said. We had a nice long chat. I'm going to open an account in her husband's bank. Imagine that. Me, having a bank account!"

"Count yourself lucky if you had one of Helen's cheesecakes. Matt and Peter call them sex on a plate."

Mary Pat was startled into a giggle. "It certainly tasted like it, from what I can remember!"

There was another interesting development in Mary Pat's life. Officer Spider Webster had taken to dropping in while he was out on night patrol. Just to make sure everything was okay, he had explained. After all, they couldn't have their newest resident upset or scared.

Of course, Mary Pat had to invite him in for coffee. They each spoke a little about their lives in that tentative getting to know you stage. And of course, she offered him a piece of Helen's cheesecake, which he recognized immediately.

Life was looking up, looking exciting, and the only note of discord in her life was the fact that Danny was not here with her.

xxxxxxx

Luke Allred was perched on a crate in the dilapidated, crumbling, abandoned brownstone. The Cowhands had co-opted it as their headquarters, and people on their turf knew enough not to trespass. He was using a matchstick to pick at his teeth as he gazed out at the members of his gang.

Idiots. All of them. The only one that had a lick of sense was Dan, and he was upstate living it up with the rich bastards who controlled the city.

Maybe Dan could be coerced to share the largess.

"Dick," and, man, how he hated that name. "I'm going to be taking a little trip to visit our friend Dan. You'll be in charge while I'm gone."

Dick Ryks grinned. It was about time Luke recognized his natural leadership abilities. "Sweet."

"Our club treasury is getting a little low on funds, and I'm going to be taking the balance of it to fund my expenses. Redeye and Jacko, you guys hit up that little bodega we did before. Mickey and Carson, you guys take the purse patrol. Remember, little old ladies. Try not to get caught like Dan did."

"When you coming back?" Carson hated mugging little old ladies. Maybe he'd knock off a bodega or two. Himself. Luke wouldn't be around, and how would he know where the funds came from?

"I'm leaving in the next couple days, and I should be back in a week. Remember, I'm not a very nice guy if you get me angry. Not nice at all." Luke looked out over all of them with that dead, black gaze.

"Yeah, we know." Dick shivered. He would not want to be on the other side of Luke's temper. Nope. Not at all. One thing he did know. The gang might be mucking around in low-level muggings and easy robberies, but Luke? Dick wouldn't be surprised to see him on the cover of Serial Killers Monthly in the future.

Yeah, this was something to do for now to relieve the boredom, but soon he was gonna branch out on his own. He had a great acting ability and chameleon-like quality to help him slip into any role, male or female.

And there were a lot of gullible marks out there.

xxxxxxx

Dan made it through the first day on the bus to school and back. It was obvious what that nosy, curly-headed blonde thought of him. She didn't seem scared of him at all, just… disdainful. Yeah, that was the word.

He reached a sort of truce with Mr. Maypenny, too, as they settled into their new normal. Dan would come home, do his homework, and then set about doing chores with the old man. He just hoped he'd have the same amount of energy Mr. Maypenny did when he was that old.

He'd never admit it, but his hands were blistered from chopping wood to lay by. It was hard, sweaty work, even in the cold. Later that night, the old man tossed him a tube and a pair of gloves. "Put that on your palms, Dan. It will help heal them."

Uncle Bill came over for an hour or so every day. The subject was Horses 101. At first, Dan was intimidated by the large animal. Man, standing up close to one of them was a lot different than watching them on film.

"Spartan is a good old boy. A gelding. Do you know what that means, Dan?"

"Nah. We didn't have too many horses running around the streets in Brooklyn," he replied flippantly.

Regan flushed a bit with that quick Irish temper but held his tongue. "Male horses are stallions. As with any herd animal, you have the alpha male and his harem. They are very territorial about their females and of course get into a lot of altercations with other male horses. A gelding is a stallion that can no longer reproduce. Most of the time they are kinder and gentler animals."

Dan squinted up at his uncle. "Most of the time?"

"There's always a wild one in the bunch. In the stables that I manage, Mr. Wheeler's horse is a big black gelding named Jupiter. Jupiter is strong physically and headstrong mentally. Even though he is a gelding, I keep him away from our mares. He's a bit unpredictable. You can ask Trixie or Jim about that sometime."

"And what about Spartan here?" Dan could imagine being trampled to death in the little stall.

"Like I said, he's a good old boy. Gentle, soft mouth. He'll be a good mount for you to learn to ride. He loves apples. I want you to give him an apple a day, but when you do, extend your hands like this, palms flat. That will avoid him nibbling on your fingers, which can be painful." Regan paused. "I'd like to take you and your mom to dinner on Friday at Wimpy's."

"I'd like that." Simple words, no attitude, just gratitude. He wanted to see his mother, learn how she was coping. He was eager to tell her about his days and nights in the preserve, where the only sounds were those of nature.

Dan was also responsible for mucking out Spartan's stall. It certainly was not a job he relished. "Bad enough the streets are filled with dog crap. Who would've thought I'd be raking out horse crap." Mr. Maypenny had a compost heap in which Dan emptied the buckets.

School was, well, not bad if he allowed himself the truth. The school was a lot smaller than the one that he was supposed to be attending in Brooklyn. Most of the teachers there were engaged with the students, trying their best to help them understand the lessons.

But he still wanted to go home to Brooklyn.

Maybe.

xxxxxxxx

Hawthorn Street was the bad area of Sleepyside. A snaking, cracked, two-lane blacktop, it always seemed like a miasma of evil hung over it. Little patchwork lawns were mostly straw in the summer, pale green in the spring, as if it was an effort to grow there. Paint peeled on of the houses, and driveways were overgrown with weeds. The residents of said street were shifty-eyed con artists, according to popular opinion.

Evil called to evil, or so it was said. No wonder as the heels on Luke Allred's cowboy boots click-clacked along the splintered sidewalk, he felt right at home there, on that sad street.

Olyfant's Boarding House. Luke supposed the paint was once white; now, it was more of a dirty gray. The porch sagged, and the three steps up listed a bit to the left. The screen door had slits in it, and Luke wondered if someone tried to break in… or out.

Still, it was a step up from a rat-infested brownstone in Brooklyn.

A man sauntered out of the place, smoking a cigarette, and leaned against a column, his beady eyes on Luke. He was rocking a thick, black unibrow along with some shiny blue pants that were obvious leftovers from the 70s. "Take a picture," he smirked. "Lasts longer."

"Har-har. Got a room to rent for a day or two or three?"

Henry Olyfant shrugged a shoulder. "Cash up front. Fifty bucks a day."

Luke rolled his eyes. "For that dump? It's less at the Circle Motel in town." He turned to go.

"Thirty."

"Twenty-five and you have a deal."

Business had been slow, the winter was harsh, and Olyfant could use the money. Once spring rolled around, he knew his businesses would pick up, but now…

"Okay."

Luke followed the man inside. The place was just as decrepit inside as out. He peeled off fifty dollars and handed it to the proprietor, careful not to let the man see his wad of cash. Olyfant showed Luke to a room on the first floor, barely big enough to contain the single bed, nightstand, spindle-backed chair, and doorless closet.

"Bathroom is down the hall. If ya wanna use the kitchen, ya haveta buy your own groceries and clean up after yourself. You get two towels a week. If you need more, they are extra. Enjoy your stay," Olyfant grunted as he handed over the key. Front door is locked at midnight. The back door into the kitchen is left unlocked, but I suggest not wakin' me up."

Luke nodded and shut the door after the man, shoving the back of the chair under the knob. If all went well, he'd be living it up with Danny-boy and his rich friends.

xxxxxxxxxxx

It wasn't so bad, living out in the forest. He never would have admitted it to anyone, not even his Ma. There was a certain peace there, one not present when he was in the city. The air was pure, almost intoxicating. Several small snowfalls gave the land a pristine look. He was astonished to see tracks of the animals that lived there.

His days were filled with catching up in school; afternoons and nights in the never-ending chores. When Friday finally arrived, he was excited to be able to see his mother and tell her all about his new life.

It was amazing that she picked him up in the Jeep Mr. Wheeler had put at her disposal. This was a different woman than the one he lived with. Mary Pat looked relaxed, almost carefree. A big smile crossed her face when he climbed in. "I've missed you, Danny!"

He leaned over and kissed her soft cheek. "I've missed you too, Ma. Where's Uncle Bill?"

"We're going to pick him up now. I've found out he hates cars, hates to drive." Mary Pat shook her head. It was a measure of the love Liam had for her that he drove all the way to Brooklyn.

Dan rolled his eyes. "I can attest to that! Spartan perks up anytime he is near. He is a great teacher, though." Dan hadn't yet been up on Spartan's back, not until he knew every bit of tack, how to clean it, and the basics of horse anatomy. William Regan's love for the big animals shone through, and it was infectious.

Shortly after that, the trio was seated at Wimpy's in one of the large, comfortable booths. "They have great shakes and burgers here. Not as good as Mrs. Belden's but delicious nonetheless."

Mike came over himself, partly because Regan was a friend and partly because he was curious about the newcomers. "Good evening folks. How is it going, Regan?" Mike was the owner/operator of the establishment, a tall, thin, wiry sort of man.

"Hi, Mike. Mike, this is my sister, Mary Patricia Mangan, and her son Daniel Mangan. MP and Dan, this is Mike Brooks, purveyor of Westchester County's finest."

"Pleased to meet you, Mike." Mary Part gave him a bright smile. Dan merely grunted a hello.

In a little while, they were chowing down on a superb meal as the diner filled up with other patrons. Dan noted the group that came in, laughing and smiling. The BWGs. He knew of them from school and from his uncle and Mr. Maypenny.

He tried to tell himself that he'd never want to be a part that tight-knit group. As he stared into the wholesome, clean-cut faces, a large part of him wanted so badly to be there with them. What would it be like, to be with people who had your back all the time? Who did good things and helped the community? Who were respected and loved?

He stared down at his food. Man, what is happening to me?

xxxxxxxx

Luke Allred shivered in the cold night as he watched Dan from the park bench. Yeah, he was in there, warm and cozy, like nothin' was wrong. It was time Danny paid him back for everything he did for him. It wouldn't be too hard to find out where he was staying. It was a small town, and everyone knew everyone else's business.

It was just then that Spider Webster, in full uniform, and his brother Tad graced the diner. One day a week, the guys gave Mrs. Vanderpoel a break and went out to eat at one of Sleepyside's fine dining establishments. Wimpy's for good old American chow; That's Amore for Italian grub; or Golden Dragon for the best in Chinese/Japanese cuisine.

xxxxxxxxx

Tad spied the BWGs first and gave them a friendly wave. Turning, he noted Dan sitting with Regan and a lady who resembled the groom. Regan's sister. The town drums already beat out that tune.

They were on their way to a vacant booth one down from the trio. "Hey, Dan! You finally discovered Wimpy's!" Tad grinned at the dark, handsome teenager. "Regan."

"Hi, Mary Pat," Spider murmured. "How you doin', Regan? Mrs. Mangan, this is my brother, Tad."

"Hi, Tad. Dan, this fine gentleman is one of Sleepyside's finest men in blue. Officer Spider Webster."

Dan raised a black brow. "Spider?" He should have felt ill-at-ease or nervous. Instead, he sort-of admired the uniform and was consumed by curiosity about the man's first name.

Spider rolled his eyes. "It's a long story." He kept his eyes on Regan's pretty sister. "Well, we'll leave you to finish your meal."

"Nice to meet you, Tad," Mary Pat Mangan smiled at the boy. Tad felt the warmth of it envelop him from head to toe. He hadn't felt that earth-mother type nurturing since… well, since forever.

"You, too, Mrs. Mangan. See ya in school, Dan."

xxxxx

Outside of the diner, at his vantage point, Luke was filled with feelings of utter outrage. Consorting with the enemy! Mangan looked awfully chummy with that cop. Awfully chummy. And you know what happens when a criminal and a cop get friendly.

Snitching. That's what happens.

Dan Mangan knew enough to put a lot of the gang members away for a long time.

And he, for one, wasn't about to spend the next 10-to-20 in the salubrious confines of Sing-Sing or Attica.

xxxxxxx

An hour and a half later, Dan was trying to coax a recalcitrant Spartan into his stall. "Gentle and biddable, my ass," he muttered aloud.

"There's a catamount about, makes him skittish." A deep voice, not Mr. Maypenny's interrupted Dan's diatribe. His head shot up, and a tall redhead was standing on the other side of the rustic fence. "I'm Jim Frayne." Jim stuck out a large, freckled hand.

Dan took it automatically. "How do you know that?"

"Heard it howling last night. Spartan here probably heard it. All the horses up at the house are being bratty, too. Regan had a hard time getting them back in their stalls. They don't want to be confined if they have to fight or flight."

"Old Spartan here may be old, but he's pretty stubborn." Dan paused. "I've seen you around school."

Jim swung himself over the fence, an easy, practiced gesture. "Yeah. I've seen you, too. Don't worry. A couple more days and everyone will be talking about something else."

Dan couldn't help himself. "Like you would know." Damn horse was just standing there, unwilling to move.

Jim raised his copper brows. "Like yeah, I would know. Not so very long ago I was a homeless runaway being stalked by my evil stepfather. Sounds like some sort of bad fanfiction, eh? Then I met Trixie and Honey and boom. Went from being a penniless orphan to having a family, a fortune, and a girl…" Jim's voice petered out. He didn't mean to say that much.

Dan rolled his eyes, tugging on Spartan's reins. "Like everyone in the whole school can't see that you and that blonde are nuts about each other. At least you have a family and a mom and dad." Dan turned away. His Da was dead, and his Ma gave him up to a total stranger.

Jim reached out and grabbed Dan's arm, turning him around. Those emerald green eyes had gone dark with temper.

"Don't think you have the corner on suffering there, Mangan. I watched my father die a painful, prolonged death from cancer. I watched my mother marry a brute who hated me simply because I looked like my father, and because she was so weak she couldn't be without a man. She died too, and I was left with him." Jim spat out the words. He lifted his shirt and coat. "See those hash marks? He whipped me like a dog. And nobody helped, not until I came here to Sleepyside."

Dan stared at the angry-looking welts crisscrossing Jim's back. "God," he breathed out.

"God? At the time Jonesy was whipping me, I was sure there was no such thing as God. If there was, how could He let this happen to me? To other abused kids? No, I didn't believe in God. First He took my father and then He took my mother. He left me with this guy who thought nothing of taking a horsewhip to me." Jim scrubbed long fingers over his cheeks. It was not something that he spoke about a lot.

"When I ran away I finally escaped from Jonesy, I did everything I could to get here to my great uncle. I lied, I stole, I cursed the people who left me in this situation. I was pretty depressed and angry when I finally made it here. And of course, what happened? My great uncle's fabulous mansion was a dilapidated wreck. I knocked and knocked, but no one answered. So, I broke in. It was a holy mess inside. I was exhausted, I was hungry, and I was damn scared. I found a shotgun, and I slept with it next to me on this crappy old mattress in the living room. And then, something miraculous happened."

Dan was enthralled with the story of Jim's life. "What happened?"

"Two girls broke into the mansion. I heard them and thinking it was Jonesy, leveled the shotgun at the entrance to the living room. Because at that point, Dan, I was willing to commit murder. If it had been Jonesy, I would've killed him. Even a life sentence in prison would've been better than life with him." Jim closed his eyes, shaking his head. A small smile tilted his lips as he opened his eyes again.

"Who were the two girls?"

"Honey Wheeler, my sister and a curly-haired spitfire named Trixie Belden. Honey was scared but Trixie? Man, she stood right up to me and demanded to know what I was doing in my uncle's house. I had a gun on her, and she was the one taking me to task. I met them and to tell you the truth, I've never looked back. I might have thought that God deserted me in my time of greatest need, but He didn't. I'm sure he led me here, led me to a life that I couldn't even imagine last year. Led me to a family I love, a sibling I didn't have, and a girl I admire more than anyone on earth."

"Yeah, well, what's the chance of me having a rich uncle?" Dan said, bitter.

"It's not about the money, Dan," Jim explained, patient. "It's about the relationships. I'm not going to lie to you and tell you that the money doesn't matter. It does, to a certain degree. It opens doors that were shut; it allows us to have adventures and trips most people don't have access to. However, if Honey and my parents were as poor as church mice, I still would be thankful that I was given a second chance. We're not so different, you and me. I don't know your story, I just know the rumors. Whatever you did back in Brooklyn, leave it all behind. You have a chance at a new start here."

"Well, your Trixie doesn't trust me. She made that abundantly clear."

Jim laughed, his green eyes filling with merriment. "Oh, Dan! It's nothing personal, believe me. It may take time, but when Trixie realizes you are really a good guy, they'll be no greater friend that you'll make."

It was at this point Spartan decided it was time to make his way into the barn. "You've given me a lot to think about, Jim. Thanks." He did, too. It wasn't like Dan was going to change overnight. He still missed Brooklyn and his old gang.

But, it was nice having enough to eat and not worrying that he was taking food out of his mother's mouth. It was nice falling into a soft, comfortable bed in the middle of the forest and not worrying that someone was going to break in or that something was going to happen to your mother as she went from job to job.

Even chopping all that wood wasn't really bad.

As Jim helped Dan get a stubborn Spartan ready for the night, his mind was whirling, and his emotions were awry. He was still being pulled towards Brooklyn, but if he was honest with himself, Sleepyside was taking hold of his heart.

xxxxxxxx

While Jim was talking to Dan, Spider Webster was stopping by Glen Hollow Farm. "How did you like Wimpy's?" Spider asked as he wrapped his fingers around the warm mug of coffee.

"Loved it! In fact, I love the whole town. It's just so nice and clean. I feel safe there. The shopkeepers are all so personable, and the residents have been welcoming. Dan looked great, even though he pretended to be still upset with the move. I think it's a good thing."

Spider rolled his eyes. "You know teenagers. They have to pretend to be cool and uncaring. Tad pulls that on me all the time."

"He's a nice boy, Spider. You did well."

"I couldn't have done it without the help of Sleepysiders. You know that old saying, it takes a village to raise a child? In my case it was true. I needed a lot of help at various times, and everyone was glad to do so." He paused, biting his lower lip. "Tonight's my last night on night shift."

Mary Pat felt a quick stab of disappointment. "Seriously? I'll miss our little coffee get-togethers."

"I've asked Chuck Dubner to drive by every so often."

"Oh, there was no need for you to do that. I guess in the first few days here, I was scared. I'm not anymore." But still, it was a little bit of a relief to know that Spider thought enough of her to make sure that someone kept an eye on the place.

"Mary Pat, I was wondering if maybe sometime you'd like to go out. On a date." Spider's knee was pumping furiously under the table. He hadn't asked a woman out in a very long time.

A warmth spread through her body. "I'd like that, Spider. I'd like that very much."

"How about Friday? We could go out to an early dinner in White Plains. I can show you a little of the countryside."

"That sounds lovely."

"How about if I pick you up around two? We can take a drive and then go to MacDonald's."

Mary Pat wrinkled her nose. "McDonald's?"

"No, Mack Donald's. M-A-C, not M-C. It's an Irish pub and restaurant. They have really good food, and it's casual, not dressy sort of place."

"Wonderful. It sounds great."

They were looking into each other's eyes, but the electric moment was interrupted by Spider's radio crackling into life.

"All available units, reports of a break-in at the convenience store on Hawthorne Street."

Spider stood. "Webster here. On my way. ETA 10 minutes." Speaking to Mary Pat, he shrugged. "The life of a police officer. I'll see you Sunday, Mary Pat."

She followed him to the door. "See you then, Spider." She stood in the doorway, watching him speed away. Did she really want to get involved with another first responder? Look what happened to Tim.

She raised a hand to her heart and pressed.

Yeah. She did.

xxxxxxxxx

Luke Allred was counting the cash in his room. The convenience store, Hawthorn Quick Mart, wasn't really so convenient. It opened up around sevenish in the morning, and the place was locked up tight by nightfall.

A couple of days of observation told him all he needed to know. The cashier was either the proprietor, an older man who was an alkie – he reeked of the stuff. When the geezer needed to sleep it off in the back, his equally soused spouse would take over for a few hours.

The shelves were not exactly stocked with healthful food. A wheezing old freezer held a few gallons of milk and some prewrapped cheese. The clientele was either food-stamp recipients from the neighborhood who were trading in their stamps for cash or cigarettes or people picking up scratch-offs or lottery tickets. Occasionally, a harried parent would drop in and get a couple of fast things, but Luke was sure they were either running numbers from the store or involved in low-level money laundering.

There were a couple of fake security cameras around the store. Luke could tell by the fact there were no wires or blinking red lights. It was an old trick by shopkeepers hoping to deter crime, but who didn't want the added expense and upkeep of a real security system.

The owners lived above the store in a tiny apartment that looked as if it were added on after the place lost its franchise rights. Even though they lived in what passed for a hotbed of crime in Sleepyside, they didn't have much that would deter a determined thief. Luke figured they weren't robbed because you don't piss in your own backyard, but hell, he didn't live here.

He waited a couple hours after the lights to the place went out, and he could see lights blazing in the apartment. It was dark enough and cold enough so that there weren't many passers-by. A quick and easy pick of the padlock in the back of the store and he was in.

A minute later, he was out with the contents of the old, broken register and the cigar box stuffed with cash under the counter. It was a nice haul. The one thing he forgot was to close the padlock up, but then again, he needed to make a quick exit.

What Luke didn't count on was the owner heading downstairs to place his empty liquor bottles in the dumpster, seeing the open padlock and calling the cops.

A short while later, someone was knocking at his door. "It's Olyfant. The cops are here. They want to talk to all of us about a break-in at the Quick Mart."

"Be there in a minute." Luke stashed his jacket, along with the cigar box full of cash in a hidey-hole he had discovered. It looked like moulding on the drywall, but if you tugged at it, the panel tipped out.

He stepped into the living room to find Olyfant, a uniformed police officer with a pad, and the only other occupant of the boarding house, a guy whose last name was Thompson. He was the last to join the party.

"Hello, I'm Officer Webster." Spider was well acquainted with Olyfant and the Thompsons. "You are?"

"Luke Allred." He wasn't going to offer more. That's how you got in trouble. Giving more information than was asked.

Webster's instincts went on red alert. He almost laughed aloud – his Spidey sense! "Well, gentlemen, it appears there was a break-in at the Quick Mart. Since you're less than a block away, I was wondering if any of you saw anything suspicious."

Olyfant looked surprised. "Seriously? Someone robbed old man Pulaski?" Man, what was the world comin' to?

"Yeah, broke in and got all the cash. He was throwing out some trash when he noticed the padlock was broken."

"I ain't seen nothin," Thompson growled. And even if he did, he wouldn't tell the cops. Not after they put most of his family in jail when all they wanted to do was spread the wealth a little.

"I didn't see anything," Luke said smoothly.

"You guys sure you didn't notice any strangers lurking around or see any suspicious vehicles? Someone casing out the joint?"

"I got a business to run here, Webster. I didn't see anything."

"You know the place has security cameras," Webster informed the trio of scowling men. He knew they didn't work, were fake, but these guys probably didn't know that. If one or all of them got nervous…

Thompson shrugged. "Won't show me robbin' the place. Now if that's all, I'm missin' my shows."

"Sorry, Officer… Webster. I didn't see anything." Luke hooked his thumbs on his belt loops.

"All right, if you remember anything, just get in contact with the police." Webster was frustrated. It was a long shot, but he had to try. He glanced again at Luke Allred and addressed him directly. "Staying long here in Sleepyside?"

It was Luke's turn to shrug. "Maybe. It's a nice little town."

Spider Webster did not have a good feeling. He decided to run Allred's name when he got back to the station. There was something hinky about this whole situation.

After Spider left, Olyfant eyed his newest tenant. "You didn't have anything to do with the robbery, did ya, kid?"

"Not me." Luke stared into the man's eyes, looking as sincere as possible.

Olyfant didn't trust the little bastard. Allred might only be around eighteen, but Olyfant's crook-dar was pinging loudly. "You better be tellin' the truth, man. You don't shit where you eat." Quick Mart might be a hot mess, but Pulaski did a good business in illegal numbers and a few other unsavory businesses, in most of which Olyfant partnered.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Luke sensed the man didn't believe him. Maybe it was time to get the hell out of there, go collect Danny and get the hell back home to Brooklyn.

God only knows what a mess of it Ryks was making out of the Cowhands.

xxxxxxxxxx

Spider was paused on the porch of Olyfant's house. That kid, staying there. Luke Allred. He had a Brooklyn accent, just like Dan Mangan. Maybe Dan knew him. It was a longshot; Brooklyn was full of people and the chances two Brooklynites in Sleepyside, there for different reasons, knew each other was a longshot.

But hell, cases were solved with even greater coincidences than that. He'd ask Dan or ask Mary Pat. Allred looked like bad news, and Spider aimed to get him the hell out of Dodge. Or arrest him.

Whatever happened first.

xxxxxxx

Helen Belden sighed as she sat down in the cozy living room at Crabapple Farm. Peter, her husband, heard the loud exhalation and turned to her.

His beautiful wife's brows were furrowed, and she had her hands wrapped around a mug of steaming tea. "What's the matter, Helen?" Peter knew what she was going to say, at least in a global sense. It had to be one of the kids. Nothing else would make her look like that.

"I had a meeting at the school today," she began, taking a sip to fortify herself.

"Oh, God, tell me Trixie and Honey aren't finding mysterious goings on in the chemistry lab." Peter was only half-joking.

Helen snorted, a dainty sound, and Peter smiled to himself. That's exactly where Trixie got it from. "No, for once it wasn't the girls or Mart. It was the elementary school."

Peter's brows crawled up his forehead. Helen had the thought they looked like two black caterpillars and had to stifle a giggle. "Bobby?"

"Not in any trouble, thank goodness."

"Then what's wrong?"

"The school counselor and his teacher were there. They think he needs speech therapy. He's lisping out his words, and it's not getting better. Miss Jules heard one of the other kids making fun of him, and she wants to nip that in the bud."

"That's not so bad. Lots of kids need speech therapy."

"That's not all." Helen looked at the fire, watching it consume the logs. "They think that we baby Bobby too much. All of us, even the kids."

"He is only six," Peter began.

"I agree, but Peter, none of the other kids were like him at that age. Brian was practically reading medical books; Mart was doing stand-up comedy here in the living room; and Trixie thought criminals were lurking behind every tomato plant."

She paused, taking in a gulp of air rather than tea. "I think maybe they might be right. Bobby needs more responsibility. All the other kids had chores at that age, yet Bobby gets away with murder. We're always asking Trixie to take care of him, and she and the boys should pitch in to help. However, we're the ones who chose to be parents. Not them."

Peter pinched at the bridge of his nose. He could foresee that this was going to cause agita. "All right Helen. More responsibility for Bobby. I only hope we live through this."

xxxxxxx

Nobody could say that Luke Allred was stupid. Well, he did make a mistake in robbing that stupid little convenience store, but how was he supposed to know all the ins and outs of this crappy little town's criminals? It was time to get the hell out of here and back to his stomping grounds.

He had a pretty good idea where Dan was staying. Some old geezer down on Glen Road. There were whispers that this Maypenny character had a stash of money in his broken-down log cabin. And guess what? Luke and the Cowhands needed a stash of money.

He'd be heading out first thing in the morning.

xxxxxxxx

The next couple days were chock-full of activities for everyone involved. Now that Mary Pat was at Glen Hollow Farm, renovations could start ramping up. Mr. Wheeler, Regan, the architects, and the contractor met to finalize the plans and go over them with Mary Pat.

When all was said and done, Glen Hollow Farm would be a showplace. Mary Pat noted with appreciation that none of the men involved treated her as if she had nothing between her two ears. Of course, not being familiar with architectural plans she did have a lot of questions. But in the end, she knew exactly what her brother and Mr. Wheeler envisioned and how the architect was going to bring that vision to fruition.

She didn't say anything to Liam about her date with a Spider Webster. After all, it was only one evening. It was different when you went out with someone rather than sit in a comfortable kitchen having a cup of coffee with them. Her nerves began to niggle at her. What should she wear? What should she eat? She could just see herself dropping a whole plate of spaghetti right on her lap.

And worst of all, what would Spider expect at the end of the date? A handshake? A quick peck on the cheek or lips? Or would he expect to be invited into her bed? God, it'd been so long since Tim died. As she was stressing, she glanced at herself in the little mirror over the dresser. A serviceable bra and what she thought of as grandma panties. Nothing too sexy about that!

Maybe a trip to town and a little splurge on herself. There was a department store, Crimper's. Maybe she'd make her way to the lingerie department and from there to casual wear. It had been eons since she bought anything new.

Mary Pat placed a slender hand over her stomach. Even now, butterflies were running rampant. She only hoped that some sort of brilliant conversation would ensue, and she wouldn't make a total jerk of herself.

xxxxxxxx

Luke, a city kid, found the preserve quite intimidating. After hours of frustration, he was finally able to find Maypenny's cabin. It wasn't the old, broken down, dilapidated place he had been expecting. In fact, a sort of envy grew within him. Not that he wanted to be out here in the boondocks, but yet that little green monster inside of him grew jealous of the fact that Dan had a real home.

He broke into an old building not too far from the cabin. It looked like it had been an old schoolhouse at one time. Surprisingly, there were no benches or other wood in the place that he could break up to use in the fireplace. He noted the footprints in the dust but was smart enough to know those footprints were also overlaid with tiny particles. So someone had been there, he surmised, a while ago. Well, there were certainly enough dead trees within the immediate vicinity for him to go out and gather some firewood. There was nothing in the old building now except a few old burlap sacks.

Yeah, this would be a good place for a base of operations. Nobody knew he was he there and he could watch and wait.

xxxxxxxx

Friday took its sweet old time getting there. Spider talked to Tad and Mrs. Vanderpoel about his impending date with Mary Patricia Mangan, thus having to endure their merciless teasing. Not so much Mrs. V, but Tad was insufferable.

Spider stored it all away for the fast-approaching day when his brother would begin to date. Revenge, as Mart Belden proclaimed, was sweet. Saccharine sweet.

xxxxxxxxxx

Robert Belden, aglow with new responsibilities, decided that he would like to add another animal to the Beldens' menagerie. The big kitty that had been roaming the preserve deserved a nice home. His conscience pricked as he tugged on his jacket and sneaked out of the house at dusk. Moms and Daddy were going to be mad, but helping a kitty was a ' _sponsibility._ Trixie often said it was their 'sponsibility to take care of the poor animals.

xxxxxxxx

Dan, although he would never admit it out loud, was growing awfully fond of Mr. Maypenny. Although it sometimes seemed that he chopped wood from dawn to dusk along with other chores that were never-ending, Mr. Maypenny always treated him with respect and kindness. He began, a little at first, to stop bragging in school about being in a gang and how cool it was. Life here in the outskirts of nowhere was slower paced, gentler, and kinder than the frenetic pace of New York City.

Most of the Bob-Whites of the Glen were cordial to him. Brian, Jim, and Mart were really nice, honorable guys. They were interested in what he was saying and listened to him, unlike Luke who was dictatorial and a my way or the highway type of guy. Even Diana and Honey smiled at him and went out of their way to make him feel welcome.

Dan leaned against the ax for a moment, taking a breather. The only fly in the ointment, so to speak, was Little Miss Trixie Belden. The kids at school filled him in on her exploits, and he was full of admiration for her and Honey. Man, he could barely keep his cool when he was being interrogated by the cops, never mind being kidnapped and threatened with death like the two girls were. Trixie was still suspicious of him. Dan guessed that she had every right to be.

He only wished that he could find a way to break through her wall of reserve. He really did want to be her friend.

He resumed his chopping, the rhythmic strokes chasing away all thoughts and dreams to concentrate on the task at hand.

xxxxxxx

It was Friday; Luke figured tonight was the night. He had enough roughing it. It was cold in the schoolhouse, and he didn't want to make a large fire. People would see the puffs of smoke and get suspicious. He was tired, bored silly, and just wanted to get home.

He heard Dan talking about going up to that large house on the hill, Manor House, Luke thought Dan called it. Apparently, his uncle worked there. Dan was going to meet the guy for a quick bite to eat and lessons about horses. Big stinking animals! Truth to tell, Luke snuck into the stables when Maypenny and Dan were out of the house. Maybe there was something of value there.

Spartan nearly scared the crap out of him. And it smelled like horse crap in there, overwhelmingly so. It was disgusting to a nose fine-tuned to the distinctive smells of the city. Exhaust fumes, hot pretzels or chestnuts, the myriad of smells coming from food trucks parked hither and yon, and the scent of 9 million people crammed together.

Better any day than horse shit.

Luke thought he'd get it all done – rob the old geezer, tie him up, grab Dan, and get the hell out of there, in less than fifteen minutes. It was time they both made a return to where they really belonged and where the pickins weren't so slim for two resourceful criminals.

xxxxxxx

It was getting dark, and Helen Belden was pacing the living room. God, where is Bobby? That's what I get for listening to other people. Give him more responsibility. Ha.

Peter came over and put a comforting arm around her shoulder. He was already dressed in his outdoor gear, rifle at the ready. "We'll find the little scamp," Peter said with more confidence than he felt.

"He's so little, Peter. And there are bears and catamounts, and God knows what else in those woods."

"He's probably holed up in the stables fast asleep, Moms." Trixie felt a nervous fluttering in her stomach. Darn that little kid! Yet for as angry as she was, she was also equally as worried. Her father, Mr. Wheeler, Regan, and that new kid Dan were going to search for Bobby in the preserve. Mart, Jim, and Brian were headed toward town.

Just then, Sharon Lynch and Maddie Wheeler came rushing through the back door, clucking their sympathy for Helen as well as bustling around to make tea.

Tea and sympathy. It won't do much to find Bobby. She tapped her hands on her thighs, all the pent-up energy needing to be released and made her decision. Trixie slipped out the front door, determined to find her youngest brother and make him pay.

Right after she kissed him senseless.

xxxxxxxxx

Mary Pat Mangan and Spider Webster had no idea of the drama unfolding in the preserve. They were seated in MAC Donald's, not MC Donald's. It was a charming little place; a long bar took up one side of the room with an astonishing array of spirits.

The bar was separated from the dining area by a dividing wall about four feet high. The top was filled with lush greenery to help mute any noise. One side of the wall was lined with large booths, and tables were interspersed with a wide enough space between to allow for private conversation and ease of passage by the experienced serving staff. Of course, they had the usual Irish fare. Corned beef and cabbage; a delicious sounding Irish stew.

However, at their server's recommendation, they chose the Chef's Special. And oh my, how fattening that was! A grilled cheese sandwich with several different types of cheese dipped in a special batter, and then deep-fried. The food came to the table piping hot with a side of a special slaw that was made entirely by hand. Mary Pat could tell, because of how fresh and delicious it tasted. Most of the time, in the restaurants where she worked, the slaw came in plastic bags like one would buy at a grocery.

Soft, Irish music played in the background and both parties relaxed as the meal progressed. See, it wasn't so hard going out on a date. It wasn't awkward between them. They had the advantage of forging a friendship first.

And, it was exciting to think that that friendship was now taking the logical next step.

xxxxxxx

"Dan, remember. Stick to the trails. Don't go haring off into the preserve. If you need to contact one of us, you have the walkie-talkie." Mr. Maypenny was not quite lecturing Dan as much as advising him.

"I'm pretty familiar with the area," Dan responded. "I…" It was just then the loud howl of a catamount silenced the little group of men. Dan shivered, thinking of that little kid out there, all alone.

"We better get going," Peter said grimly. He just hoped that Helen didn't hear that. She was frantic enough; never mind knowing that the big cat was in the vicinity. "I don't want to kill the cat," Peter frowned. "They're quite rare. However, if it comes to a choice between Bobby and the cat…" He let his voice trail off.

Everyone nodded curtly. "Let's get going," Ed Lynch said. "It's getting dark, and the temperature is dropping."

They all headed off in different directions, calling Bobby's name. Dan Mangan was both proud and scared shitless at the same time. Everyone else had a weapon, but the only thing he had was a walkie-talkie. What would he do if he came across the big cat? His flashlight illuminated several sharp rocks on the trail. It may not have been a gun, but one of these rocks could do a lot of damage. He slipped several into his pockets and held one in his other hand.

xxxxxxx

Luke Allred had absolutely no trouble breaking into the cabin. He saw the gaggle of men, their weapons, and Dan looking like a skinny little shit among them. From what he could overhear, some little kid was lost in the forest and the men – and Dan – were going out as a posse to try and rescue him. How sweet.

Well, it will give him a chance to get into the cabin and surprise the old guy when he comes back. Luke was surprised at how nice the cabin was on the inside. It wasn't a broken down wreck as he was expecting. It was rather luxurious.

That thought fueled the fire burning within him, the rage. Dan was living the life of Riley while I'm stuck in a cold, nasty old building four days. That boardinghouse in town wasn't much better, either. I know that Olyphant guy was going through my things when I am out.

 _Yeah, I'm going to be glad to see the last of this crappy little town, and it's oh so saccharine inhabitants._

Now all he had to do was wait. He had the rope from the stables and the long wrench he had found there. Once the old man came in, all he had to do was conk him on the head and tie him up. Easy – Peasy.

xxxxxxxx

Trixie heard the yowl of the catamount. It seemed close. "Bobby! Bobby! Where are you?" She knew these woods like the back of her hand. But Bobby didn't. She thought about her youngest brother and his propensity for getting into situations. Maybe it was because she, Mart, and Brian were all close in age and had each other to rely on. Bobby was a lot younger than all of them. Of course, there were Larry and Terry now, but for a long time, it must've seemed to Bobby as if he were an only child.

The bigger kids always had something else to do whether it was chores, studying, or extracurricular activities. And of course, they all complained, loudly, when they had to take care of him. Well, maybe not Brian so much, but Mart and Trixie.

Just then she thought she heard a faint call for help. Turning in that direction, hoping against hope, she followed the sound of Bobby's voice. Low-hanging branches slapped at her face, tore at her windbreaker, but she didn't care.

The big cat howled again, closer. Trixie had no time to lose and began to push harder. She needed to find her brother.

xxxxxxxxxx

They strolled, hand-in-hand, down the street. It was cold, a bit chilly, but each was warmed from within. It was not just from the delicious meal they had consumed in the cheerful Irish pub. No, it was deeper contentment, radiating out from their souls.

Tim would've liked him. They would have been friends, these two men with hero complexes. One a firefighter and one a cop, both bent on protecting and serving. I wonder… Just then, she tripped a little, and he immediately caught her, grinning.

"Oh! I'm not usually so clumsy." She flushed and grinned back.

Spider looked into her greenish eyes. Not the green or Regan or Mr. Wheeler, or even the deep emerald of Jim Frayne's eyes. It was her own special color, flecked with tiny pieces of gold. "It will always be my pleasure to catch you, ma'am," he replied, a twinkle in his eyes.

Just then, a bubble of happiness surrounded them. It almost felt like something was goading him on, commanding him to kiss those perfect lips. As Spider lowered his mouth to hers, she lifted her chin to accept his kiss. And just like that, they were kissing on the sidewalk.

Before she surrendered totally to his kiss, she felt a warmth steal over her heart. Tim. She could almost hear him; almost feel the little pop when he left. He'll be good for you and Dan, Mary Patricia.

There was an instant of sorrow for what could have been. As Spider's lips moved over hers, Mary Patricia Mangan let go of the past and sought out the future.

xxxxxxx

"Bobby! Bobby!"

"Here, Trixie! I falleded down. Watch out for the hole."

Trixie skidded to a stop at the edge of the ravine. It wasn't deep, but the sides were rather sheer. Bobby was standing at the bottom; her flashlight revealed his dirty face with tears tracking through it.

"Hold on, Bobby. I'm coming down." Trixie glanced around with desperation, and then just decided to take the direct route down. She dangled her legs over the edge and slid down, rather painfully, on her butt.

Bobby was on her in a flash, burying his face in her curls. All anger melted away to be replaced by sheer relief. Her arms stole around him; the little guy was wracked with shivers. "Bobby, you're freezing. Here, take my windbreaker." Trixie whipped it off and wrapped him in it.

"It smells like you, Trixie. All warm and sunshiny." Bobby smiled for the first time in a long time. "I followed the kitty and I broughted some of Reddy's food." He showed her the can of dog food.

Trixie took the can. "How were you planning on opening it, Bobby?" The pull tabs were notoriously difficult to open.

"I was gonna bash it open with a rock. Pow! Pow! Pow!" Now that he was safe, Bobby was reverting to his rascal self.

Another howl from the catamount and Trixie dropped the can. "We need to get out of here, Bobby." Her voice was low and urgent. She flashed her light around the sides of the ravine. There were some roots and dried-up vines, but Trixie didn't think they would support them both.

"We can give the kitty some food!" Bobby giggled, still unaware of the danger stalking them.

Trixie crouched down to his level and placed her cold hands on his shoulders. "Bobby, listen. That is not a kitty. It is not playful. It's a mountain lion, and it's big, hungry, tired and far from its home. We're going to look like some delicious snacks for your kitty if we don't get out of here."

The little boy's blue eyes filled with tears and his lips trembled. "Really? A lion? I'm scared. I want Moms and Daddy."

Bobby buried his face in the crook of Trixie's neck and began to sob. Lions were scary, and they ate people.

"Shhh, Bobby. Shhh." Trixie clutched her little brother closer. There was something on the edge of the ravine. She had her flashlight and a can of dog food to defend them.

She only hoped it would be enough.

xxxxxxxxx

The giggle of a herd of teenage girls broke them apart. They smiled at each other, eyes soft and dewy. "Get a room, you guys," someone offered advice, and oh, how they wished they could. It was too soon, however, no matter how much they wanted to follow the advice.

It was an unspoken understanding between them. They both had impressionable teenagers; they wanted to set a good example for Dan and Tad. Besides, it was too new and too exciting after a long drought.

"I suppose we should be getting back to Sleepyside," Spider said, his voice low and hoarse. "As much as I'd like to stand here kissing you senseless, I don't appreciate an audience."

Dazed, Mary Pat could do nothing but agree by nodding her head. "I, um, yeah. Why don't we do that?"

They sauntered back to the car, taking their old sweet time. Spider's arm was draped over her shoulders, tugging her close to his warm body. It was just so nice to have someone to lean on, and the thought wasn't just Mary Pat's. Spider had the same opinion.

"What are you planning to do on Saturday?" Spider asked as they slid into the car.

"Mr. Maypenny invited me over to his house to spend some time with Dan. I hate this. I hate being apart from him. But you know what, Spider? I think it's doing him good. He's not quite as sarcastic with me on the phone when we speak. Mr. Maypenny says he's a good worker."

"I don't think you really have anything to worry about, Mary Pat. Tad has spoken to me about Dan. He says he's a pretty good guy and for my brother to say that, you know it must be so. Dan has a little catching up to do in school work, especially in English. Tad offered to tutor him, so I think they're going to be meeting after school for a half hour or so once or twice a week. Dan can get the late bus or hitch a ride with Brian Belden."

"Do you… Do you really think the kids are accepting him?"

"According to Tad, Dan's winning over friends. You know, it's not easy starting over in a strange place, especially when you leave a large city like New York City and move to a small, quiet town like Sleepyside. It takes time to adjust."

"I never thought that when I contacted my brother when Daniel got arrested that all this would happen." She shrugged her shoulders. "It's like a dream. I'm so afraid I'm going to wake up back in that crummy apartment in Brooklyn and Dan will still be in jail."

"It's no dream, Mary Pat. Sometimes things are just meant to be, and sometimes it takes a lot of waiting for dreams to come true." Spider glanced at the pretty woman at his side and then concentrated on the road. He wasn't gifted with a silver tongue, nor did he want to spew an avalanche of insincere sounding compliments.

There would be a time and a place, and he only hoped he had the words to express his feelings.

xxxxxxx

"Bobby, get behind me," Trixie hissed, pushing her brother in place. She picked up the discarded dog food can and bent slightly at the knees, hand raised. Whatever it was up there, it was getting closer to the edge of the steep ravine.

A flashlight, a bright one, shone full in her face, blinding her for several seconds. "Daddy?" she called up as she blinked her eyes.

"No, it's me, Dan. Trixie?"

"Oh, Dan! Bobby is down here, he's not hurt, but it's too steep to climb back up." Trixie didn't care he wore a black leather jacket emblazoned with gang colors. She didn't care about anything except getting the heck out of there as the big cat screeched in the distance.

"Okay, Trixie. I have a walkie-talkie. Let me call the others for help." Dan kept a wary eye on the underbrush, listening for any sounds the big cat may be slinking nearby. "Mr. Maypenny? This is Dan. I found Bobby and Trixie is with him. Trixie said Bobby fell into a ravine. She went down after him, but it's really steep, and they can't get out."

"10-4, Dan. I know just where you are. We'll be there in five or ten minutes. Over and out."

Dan poked his head over the side of the ravine as the catamount yowled. The hair on his arms bristled as he glanced around. "Listen, Trixie, you gotta get out of there. The others are at least ten minutes away, and that cat sounds close."

He shone his flashlight down the sides. "If you can boost Bobby up to that root, I can take off my jacket, and he can grab the sleeve. Then I can pull him up. After I get him up, if you can find a foothold and get yourself up there, I can do the same."

Trixie was freezing, tired, and more than a little frightened, not that she'd admit it to Dan or anyone else. Not even Jim. "Okay, Dan." She crouched down to Bobby's level. "Bobby, put your arms through my jacket. I'm going to lift you up and climb onto the root. Grab Dan's jacket as tight as you can, and he'll lift you up the sides."

Bobby started sniffling. "I don' wanna go, Trixie," he sobbed.

"Bobby, you have to. Daddy and Mr. Maypenny are coming to get us, too, but we need to get out of here before your kitty comes. Okay?"

"Okay, Trix." He placed his arms around his sister's neck and kissed her soft cheek. "You're the goodest sister."

Trixie snorted out a laugh. "I'm your only sister. Now up we go."

It took a couple tries for Bobby to grab the root and hoist himself up enough to use it as a foothold. Dan laid on the cold ground, inching over to the side as far as he was able. The sleeve of his coat just made it down far enough for Bobby to grab onto.

"Bobby? Hold tight. Try to use your legs to kind of walk up the side when I start pulling, okay?"

Bobby nodded, gulping. It was a long way down again, even if Trixie was down there.

"Bobby? Did you hear me?"

"Okay." He grabbed the sleeve and perched on the precarious root. Dan began the arduous task of pulling the kid up the side. It seemed to take forever, but in fact, with seconds Bobby's bright blonde head peeped up from the edge. One more mighty tug and Bobby was upon the solid ground.

Safe, or as safe as one could be when being stalked by a catamount.

xxxxxxxx

Spider walked Mary Pat to her front door. He didn't expect to be invited in, not that he didn't wish it were so. It was early days yet for their relationship, and he didn't want to rush things. He figured there was time for the relationship to ripen into something more permanent.

They faced each other, tiny smiles tilting the corners of their lips. Spider swallowed and took the initiative. Because that's what first responders did, didn't they?

"I had a great time tonight, Mary Pat."

"As did I. Thanks for taking me to Mac-not-Mc-Donald's." she let a little, girlish giggle escape. "Although those new juicy Quarter-Pounders…" she let the teasing words trail off.

"I'd, um, I like to see you again," Spider pressed on. "I know you're busy with the construction and school, and you never can tell what's going to happen in Sleepyside, but I really would like to make this work."

"I'd like that, Spider. Just give me a call when you know your schedule, and we'll figure something out together."

Together. What a nice, warm word for two people who hadn't had much of it.

Mary Pat went up on tiptoes and brushed her lips over his mouth. Not quite a lovers' kiss, but a little more than friendly. "Thanks again." She touched his cheek with her cool fingers, flashed a smile, and disappeared into the house.

Spider stood there on the porch, illuminated by the outdoor light, his fingers touching his lips. Wow. My toes are tingling. A delighted grin spread over his handsome face. Life was lookin' real good all of a sudden.

xxxxxxx

"Bobby. Stay right here and don't move." Dan gasped the words out, winded. He flopped over on his back, the coldness of the frozen ground seeping through his shirt. Man, if he hadn't been chopping wood for what seemed like years, he'd never be able to hoist Bobby up the side of the ravine.

Props to Mr. Maypenny.

Trixie, with Bobby safe on higher ground, methodically searched the steep sides for foot and toe holds. She was in good shape, strong, sassy, and there was no way she was going to end up as catamount food. A few feet to the left, she spied some roots that she wouldn't have chanced with Bobby in her charge, but thought she'd be able to use them to her advantage.

She began to climb.

xxxxxxxx

Something is wrong. Maypenny could not shake the feeling. He turned to the other men. "You all know where the ravine is, right?" At their nods, he continued. "I'm going to head back to the cabin." He handed Regan a thermos of hot chocolate. "For the kids," he added, gruff.

"Okay, I'll walk Dan back," Regan began.

"No need to, Regan. He knows the way. He's a good kid." With that pronouncement, the irascible old man slipped off into the dense woods, leaving behind an astonished Bill Regan.

xxxxxxx

Trixie was slowly inching her way up the side of the ravine. The ground was hard and slippery, making it difficult to get a good hold. Her hands were freezing, and she closed her eyes for a second, willing strength back into her body. She didn't relish falling backward and tumbling into an old tree trunk or another deadfall.

I'm almost there. One small hand shot over the cliff, but instead of touching the ground, a larger hand wrapped around her wrist. "I got you, Trixie," Dan grunted.

"Yeah, but who has you?" she quipped, making him grin with appreciation.

He gave a prodigious tug as Trixie pushed up, the momentum causing them both to lose their balance. A few seconds later, they were scrambling to their feet. Trixie faced Dan, her face and hands dirty but her singular, blue eyes alight with excitement. "Thanks, Dan. You're not so bad."

"You ain't so bad yourself, She-Ra."

Just then, the men came upon the trio. "Well, what have we here?" Peter Belden's voice croaked out. He was thisclose to crying with relief or taking young Robert Belden to the woodshed.

"Dan saveded me!" Bobby cried happily. "And Trixie saveded herself. Can I have a drink?"

xxxxxxx

Thomas Maypenny felt it gnawing at his gut. There was somethin' not right. He knew almost every inch of the preserve the Wheeler billions protected. Well, almost every inch. The labyrinth defeated even an old salt such as he.

He made his way to the old schoolhouse. Oh, those were the days! The farm kids walked for miles to come here when Glen Road was just a dusty trail. His father told him how his father and the menfolk cleared the land around the old building before using the fallen timber to erect the structure that withstood the march of the months and Bobby Belden's horrorcanes and 'lizards.

His sharp, woodsman's eyes noted the disturbance in the underbrush, the broken twigs. He clicked off his flashlight and approached the building, silent footsteps rivaling the vaunted tracking abilities of Native Americans.

Maypenny's route took him around the small building, searching for… what? He wasn't sure, not until something on the ground caught his eye. He squatted for a closer examination.

Cigarette butts. Dan doesn't smoke, and neither do I. Someone's been here. He crept to the door, noted it was slightly ajar.

 _Probably no-one in there. It's too cold to leave the door open. No smoke billowing out from the fireplace._ Maypenny stood to one side as he pushed the door open and clicked on his flashlight

The room was a mess. There were empty candy wrappers along with discarded cans of beer. Bags of half-eaten chips were scattered on the floor, inviting vermin. Whoever had taken up residence here was gone now.

Maypenny walked the three hundred feet or so to his cabin after securing the schoolhouse. He'd need to send Dan out here to clean it up. Everything looked the same as he crept up on his dream house in the woods. The door was closed, and only the porch light was ablaze. He could hear Spartan nicker lightly in his stall. The intruder in the schoolhouse was long gone, so why was his gut telling him something else?

He opened the door and stepped inside, glancing about. He took no more than a step in when his vision exploded in bright, white lights before darkness consumed him.

xxxxx

Dan was sipping from the communal cup of hot chocolate, glancing at the faces of the men surrounding him. It felt good for people to be looking at him with approval and admiration written across their faces, rather than disgust or disdain. Mr. Belden thanked him profusely for getting Bobby out of the ravine, and even Mr. Wheeler and Mr. Lynch patted him on the back.

And the smile from little Ms. Belden warmed his heart. Dan was wearing his black leather jacket again, not too much worse for the wear, but somehow… it didn't fit. Instead, he coveted one of those bright red jackets worn by the BWGs, the ones Honey made and embroidered.

The ones that proudly stated the wearer was a member of The Bob-Whites of the Glen.

He walked briefly with Uncle Bill and Mr. Wheeler. "I'm proud of you, Danny. You did good." The words from his taciturn uncle were high praise indeed.

"Thanks, Uncle Bill. I was just scared that big cat would get to us before you did."

"So were we, Dan," Mr. Wheeler added. "We didn't want to, but if we had to…" he patted the rifle he carried. "They're so rare nowadays, it would be a shame to kill it."

They came to the place where the two men would continue upwards to Manor House. "Take care, young man."

"Talk to you later, Dan." Man, what a story he'd have for MP! Regan grinned. Dan was settling in just fine.

Dan gave a small salute and trudged on. Part of his brain remained on high alert for any signals the catamount was close by. The other part wrestled with his new and different attitude. Helping Trixie and Bobby felt good. The rush of adrenaline was unlike the fear he experienced when shoplifting. And he could see why Jim Frayne was so head over heels about Trixie. Man, that chick was one adventurous soul! But he'd never poach on some other guy's territory.

Besides, she felt more like a sister-type soulmate than a romantic one.

The heady feeling of helping fell on fertile soil. This was what it was like for his Da, for the first responders like police and emergency crews. Building something up was better than breaking something down. The thought was new, exciting, and full of promise. Maybe the Bob-Whites would let him skate in the Ice Carnival they were having for the victims of the Mexican earthquake. He was an accomplished speed skater, after all!

Dan strode into the cabin, a tiny smile tip-tilting his lips. One that was quickly extinguished by the sight of Mr. Maypenny. The elderly man was bleeding profusely from a head wound, and for a split second, Dan thought he fell. Then he got a glimpse of the ropes at the man's wrists and ankles. His gaze lifted to the sneering Luke Allred.

"'Bout time you got here, Danny-boy. I been waiting a long time."

"What are you doing here, Luke? I'm not supposed to have any contact with the Cowhands. It's part of my probation."

"Screw that, man. I just had to come up here and see what you are getting up to with all your rich friends. Livin' the life of Riley, ain'tcha?"

Dan hooked his thumbs in his jeans. He knew Luke. Knew him well. Maybe the rest of the Cowhands were penny-ante shoplifters, but Luke was someone different. If I let him see… see I care for Mr. Maypenny, he'll kill him. "Yeah, if you consider living in a dump where everyone probably marries their sister. And chopping wood almost 24/7."

"Nice place, though. Where's the cash?"

Dan rolled his eyes and huffed out a breath. "In the bank. Where do you think it is? The old man don't keep it here. If he did, I woulda been back in Brooklyn."

Luke stared at Dan, considering. Whatever he saw in Dan's expression and stance satisfied him. "What about that big house up on the cliff?"

"Manor House? I've never been inside, but they got a security system 007 would find it hard to penetrate. I heard the rich parents were afraid their little darling would be kidnapped."

"Grab your stuff and let's blow before the old guy wakes up. I don't think we should head toward Brooklyn. I heard the girls are hot and there's easy pickins out the in Cali. Maybe we should head out west."

"I ain't got no money, Luke. It's slave labor here." Please. Please let my gamble pay off.

"I got enough for both of us right now. Knocked over that convenience store on Hawthorne. Got a nice little stash from the illegal shit going on there."

"Okay. Give me a minute to throw some crap into my backpack."

"Hurry it up, Danny-boy, 'cause if you take too long," Luke paused, taking the time for a well-placed, vicious kick to the unconscious man's mid-section. "If you take too long, I'm gonna do more than kick the shit out of him."

Dan raced to his room, grabbing a backpack and throwing whatever he could grab easily into it. Luke followed him, watching Dan to just to make sure. Luke didn't get to be where he was in life believing everyone's words.

It was just too easy to lie and make it plausible.

"How are we gonna get anywhere, Luke? You have a car stashed somewhere?"

"I figure we'd take the one here."

Dan snorted out a laugh. "No car here. Just an old pickup truck with a manual transmission. I don't know how to drive one, do you?"

Well, this was something Luke hadn't figured on. "No. Shit." He thought for a moment. "We'll walk down the road to that white house. They always have a couple a cars in the driveway. I'm sure they're stupid enough to leave their keys in them."

"The Beldens' house? Maybe. Although I can't really see us making an escape in a mini-van."

"It'll do. Get a move on, Mangan."

As they left, Dan spared a glance at Mr. Maypenny. He was moaning, a low guttural sound that worried Dan. He needs to get to a hospital.

The minute the two were near the asphalt that signaled Glen Road, two men stepped out of shadows, rifled cocked and at the ready. "On the ground, asshole," growled Bill Regan.

"Dan attacked that old man," Luke explained, his words tripping over each other. "I tried to stop him. I just wanted to visit an old friend and boom, he went crazy."

Regan cocked his gun as Dan stared at Luke. "I said on the ground. Now. Not you, Dan."

Luke stared into the cold faces of Matt Wheeler and Bill Regan, calculated his chances of making it safely into the forest.

And then laid down on the ground. Matt Wheeler placed his gun barrel, as cold as the ice that formed in his green eyes, right against the younger man's neck. "If you move, I'll blow your head off." He glanced up at Dan. "Good thinking, son. The police and an ambulance are on their way."

"I didn't do anything like he says, Uncle Bill. Honest." So that's how it was. The big, scary gang kingpin would throw him under the bus in a New York minute.

"We know you didn't, Dan. We knew from the moment you flipped on your walkie-talkie, and we heard the entire conversation."

"I'm going up to the house to take care of Mr. Maypenny until help arrives. He's bleeding and tied up."

Regan handed Dan his cell phone. "Take a couple of pictures of the crime scene first. Just click right here."

xxxxxxxx

Spider Webster was on his way home from Mary Pat's when his cell phone rang. Units were on their way to Tom Maypenny's house; was Spider close enough to get there faster? Apparently, there was a B&E and assault. Medical team on the way.

He was already screaming down the road before the dispatcher finished her sentence.

His eyes opened wide when the headlights illuminated two men he knew well. Regan and Matt Wheeler; it wasn't exactly a surprise to see them in Trixie Belden's slice of Sleepyside, but the fact they had a man down on the ground with rifles pointed at the body was extraordinary.

Spider glanced at the black jacket and just prayed the body being held hostage wasn't Dan Mangan. It would kill Mary Pat. He stopped his vehicle to one side of the road, grabbed his service weapon and some zip ties and approached the men.

"What's going on, gentlemen?"

"These guys are nuts! Holding me hostage. I didn't do nothin'. It was Dan."

Matt Wheeler took the lead. "Bobby Belden got lost in the woods. We were all looking for him because there's a catamount about. Me, Pete Belden, Regan here, Ed Lynch, Mr. Maypenny, and Dan. Of course, Trixie had to get involved."

Spider rolled his eyes. The little blonde was always the center of the storm.

"Dan found Bobby and Trixie; Maypenny left to go home. Dan was in our company until we split up, Regan and me to Manor House and Dan to Maypenny's. When Dan got there, he discovered Maypenny was beaten up, and this little creep was in the cabin."

"Dan flipped on the talk switch to his walkie-talkie, so we heard the whole thing," Regan added. "Meet Luke Allred, the leader of the Cowhands."

Spider knelt and secured the man's wrists behind his back. As he was doing so, the ambulance turned into the driveway and bumped its way to the cabin. "Hope that Mr. Maypenny is okay." He turned to the perp with a scowl and Mirandized him.

Matt's walkie-talkie crackled to life. "They're taking Mr. Maypenny to Sleepyside General. I'm going with them. He might… he might have internal injuries and a fractured skull." Dan's voice was agonized.

Matt frowned at the report. "We'll meet you there, Dan." Matt had most of the conversation between Dan and Luke recorded on his iPhone. He hoped the courts would allow it. It was damning.

Molinson pulled up in an official police vehicle, lights flashing. Spider briefed him on the events of the evening and advised his boss he had read the perp his rights.

"Well, now, Mr. Allred, you are going to be spending a little time in our lovely facility," he said as he placed a seething Luke into the back seat of the police car. The ambulance passed by and the men looked up at it. "You better pray that nothing serious happens to that man in there." Molinson slammed the car door, almost wishing Allred's neck was right there in the middle of it.

xxxxxxx

Dan grit his teeth as he watched the paramedics work over Mr. Maypenny. In the harsh light in the back of the ambulance, the old man looked grayish. His wrists were purpled with bruises from being tied up, and Mr. Maypenny's breathing was labored.

So, this is what it came down to. Preying on the weaker among us. Luke isn't a good leader at all. He's just another stupid criminal. Everything in the past weeks in Sleepyside was leading up to this epiphany, which flashed in his brain like a sudden burst of white light.

The drive to Sleepyside Medical Center – a grand name for a small, rural hospital – took eons in Dan's estimate. In reality, the speeding vehicle was at the ambulance entrance within ten minutes. Dan gritted his teeth as Mr. Maypenny moaned as they moved him out and into the trauma room. When Dan tried to enter with him, a nurse barred the way.

"Let us look after him now," The trauma room nurse, who was probably named Ratched, informed him. "You'll just be in the way." She didn't mean it cruelly. Just then, Mr. Wheeler and Bill Regan almost tore down the automatic door trying to get in. They motioned Dan to the fairly empty waiting area.

"They wouldn't let me go with him," Dan complained, pacing.

"Dan, they need to examine him to determine the extent of his injuries," Regan placed a hand on his nephew's shoulder.

The boy was pale and shaking. Regan prayed the old man would make it. He didn't think Dan could handle another death.

"Let me go talk to admitting," Matt Wheeler added. "They'll need some information about Mr. Maypenny, and he's in no shape to provide it." The two others watched as he sat down with the admitting clerk, greeting her by name and providing details of the accident.

"We'll need to get his injuries documented," Annie frowned. She disappeared behind a door and returned several minutes later. "I've arranged for one of the staff who is specially trained in forensic exams to document everything. They'll need it for the police report and court."

"Thanks, Annie. As I said, he's covered as an active employee through my company, Wheeler/Hart International, LLC. Here's my card." Matt fished his ID out of his wallet. "Group insurer, phone numbers, and policy number are all on there. All my employees are sent to the insurer on an electronic roster monthly, so they'll be able to provide his coverage details even if they don't have his ID number."

It then became a waiting game. Dan paced the corridor outside of the waiting area. He couldn't see anything that was going on; however, at least they weren't calling a Code Blue. He was caught in a maelstrom of emotions. Worry; pride that he was able to get his message across to the others to prevent Luke from essentially kidnapping him; but most of all, guilt. If it weren't for his association with the Cowhands, Mr. Maypenny wouldn't be in this situation.

Bill Regan watched his nephew for a little while, letting him work off some of the energy. There would be a crash, that he knew, and he finally just said in his deep voice, "Dan."

"It's my fault, Uncle Bill. If I were never remanded to Mr. Maypenny's care, this wouldn't have happened. I should've stayed in New York and taken my chances there. I should've gone to jail."

Regan eyed the child that was so much a combination of Tim Mangan and Mary Patricia. He grabbed the boy by the shoulders, turning them face-to-face. "It's not your fault, Dan. Get that out of your head now. It's Luke's fault. He was the one who came here. He was the one who made these choices."

"But, he wouldn't have come here except for me."Regan shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. If it wasn't Mr. Maypenny, it very well could have been even one of the Beldens or me. You need to be here as well as Mary Pat. Luke needs to be locked up for a good long time."

"They'll probably do a plea deal," Dan said bitterly.

"Maybe in New York City. Not here, not when you have a troublemaker – an outsider – come in and disrupt the harmony of the community. Not when you have a beloved old codger like Maypenny involved."

"If he dies, Uncle Bill…"

"Maypenny? He's a tough old coot. Here comes the doctor now. Let's see what he has to say."

Dan lifted hopeful eyes to the physician's grim face.

"Good evening, gentlemen. I'm Dr. Dingell. You are waiting here for word on Mr. Maypenny, I presume."

"Yes, sir. How's he doing?"

"I'm not going to pull any punches – I guess that was a bad choice of words considering the circumstances here. Mr. Maypenny was pretty badly beaten up. He has a concussion. A couple of his ribs are bruised but thank heaven there's no fracture. He's going to be pretty sore for a few weeks. We're going to keep him overnight to keep an eye on his concussion and also to make sure that there's no internal bleeding. To be quite frank, I'm amazed at the shape he's in. I expect a full recovery."

Dan didn't hear the rest of the words. Something that was overtight inside of him loosened. Mr. Maypenny was going to be okay. He was going to be okay. His mother was going to be okay. A few seconds later, Mary Pat came running into the hospital followed by Spider Webster.

"Danny! Are you all right? How is Mr. Maypenny? Spider came to get me right after he booked that… That miscreant into the Sleepyside jail."

Dan Mangan gazed at his mother, the woman who had sacrificed so much for him. He noticed the way Officer Webster was watching her and the way she looked back. "He's going to be okay, Ma. He's going to be okay."

It was then, right there in the hospital, that he knew his life had taken a 180° turn. Yup. He'd stay here with Mr. Maypenny until he was discharged. Ma had a new beau, and he would bet almost anything that he would have a stepfather and a new stepbrother.

And maybe even one day he'd be wearing the bright red jacket that had BWG cross stitched on the back.


End file.
